A World Of Difference
by manicherryblossom33
Summary: In the dawn of The Great Pirate Era, CP0 operative Dragon was sent to claim the head of the Rackham pirates infamous first mate. However this would ultimately lead him to his wife, his friends, and the creation of the Revolutionary Army. Not Yaoi. Art not mine. Based on a theory about Luffy's mom being a pirate.
1. Prologue: The Gorosei in Mariejois

**Alright, so this is my first one piece fanfiction. I hope you like it, since I'm not sure I can compete with some of my fav authors who are also writing Dragon and/or Sabo back stories. Also! You should know this is based off a certain one piece theory about Luffy's mother. As for which one, well I'll reveal that in due time. Now about the Gorosei: since we don't know a single one of their names I'll be calling them First-Fifth respectively. They are named in the order they are listed on their page in the one piece wiki, so check that if my little hints aren't enough to tell you which Gorosei they are. And if you do end up checking the wiki page, tell me. I'll strive to describe them better. Now this story starts right off with the flashback, which is more the present time in regards to this fanfic. It's set, as Dragon so kindly points out, almost a year after Gol D. Roger's execution.**

 **I do not own One Piece**

 **Please enjoy the story!**

 **00000**

A World of Difference

Prologue: The Gorosei in Mariejois

"Flint Rackham?"

Dragon reached through a beam of light pouring in through the window and carefully took the wanted poster from the second eldest member of the Gorosei. The old man looked calm and calculating, like always. But there was a hint of grave concern perfectly mixed with self-righteous anger in his eyes, and if Dragon didn't know better he might have sworn he saw the elder's hands shaking.

"I'm sure you've heard of him," Second began, taking a seat at a round table with his fellow gorosei, "He's troublesome. Nothing compared to Roger, but even so."

Dragon arched an eyebrow at him. It had been little less than a year since the so-called pirate era began, and still the Gorosei used that tone of nauseating disgust and fury when any mention of Roger slipped or was spat from their mouths.

"Of course I have." Dragon said in a condescending tone that might have gotten him killed if he were far less valuable. "But he's just another pirate. Seems like someone for the regular marines to kill, no?"

His blunt honesty and sound logic in regards to his duties never seemed to faze the Gorosei. They remained stiff, humorless, and serious. Of course Dragon preferred their stone faced expressions to the scolding glares and grimaces of the naval marines he'd encountered.

A kill was a kill. When someone was murdered by CP0's most infamous operative "Shiroryuu," real name Dragon, he did not call it "Taken care of" or "arranged an accident for" or anything else. He called it what it was: assassination. Because sugar coating it for weak-kneed marines didn't change the fact that that was what CP0 did most of the time: silence people the Celestial Dragon's despised. It was what they had raised Dragon to do.

And he was very good at it. And the Gorosei liked that. So he saw no problem with pushing their buttons until their blood pressure spiked. He couldn't see how they had any reason to complain so long as he remained the obedient monster they had hoped he would become.

Something vile churned in his stomach, but he forced it back down.

"It's not the captain that's the problem." Fourth emphasized impatiently, gripping his sword-in-sheath where it lay across his lap. "It's the first mate. We need him—"

"Killed?" Dragon interrupted, raising both eyebrows tauntingly. Fourth glared at him, the vein in his forehead bulging out.

"Yes." Second said, reclaiming Dragon's apathetic attention. "Can you handle it?"

"Obviously I can." Dragon stated casually.

"Mind your manners, boy." Third warned, leaning forward in his chair and furrowing his brow so that the birthmarks on his forehead became lost in creases.

Dragon proceeded over the light warning with ease: "But why ask me? Couldn't you just ask one of your vice-admirals to kill him?"

"Unfortunately not." First said, raising his head. "If we were to hand this over to even our most trusted officer, we would have trouble explaining why such an infamous pirate needs to be killed immediately without capture."

Dragon's near-constant frown hardened.

"CP0 deals with the shady dirty work that the Celestial Dragon's assign our operatives on a five minute basis." He stated, squinting up at the first elder. "Pirates are free game. Wanted dead or alive. If you aren't interested in giving Rackham's first mate a flashy execution just say so. It's not as if they can refuse you."

Second looked down on him condescendingly. "We want you to take care of this, Dragon. Not the Marines. You have a lifetime's experience in making bodies disappear."

Dragon glared coldly up at him. "I have things to do. Orders coming in from the world nobles every five minutes, as I mentioned before. Am I supposed to blow all that off?"

That would be suicide. Everyone present was aware of that.

"We've spoken with your fellow agents." The first elder assured him. "They've agreed to take over your assignments until your return."

Dragon's eyebrow twitched. Delightful. So his "comrades" were picking up the slack, hmm? As if their relentless insults weren't bad enough with Dragon being their youngest, most infamous, and most well paid member.

Dragon ground his teeth. As usual, these old fools were being too pushy. Everything was in place, and even with all his status and power, he really had no choice but to comply. Even if he was CP0, and shouldn't have had to answer to the Gorosei, these elders had too much pull with those fat Celestial Dragons.

Dragon closed his eyes in acceptance.

"Any specifics?" He asked, referring to whatever torture or dismemberment was required. "Aside from bringing back the head as proof?"

"We'll call you with that information later." The first elder promised. "We only have a rough idea of their route for now, and that could easily change."

Dragon got the message and turned to leave.

"I want triple my usual payment for this." He added as he strode out of the room and into the warm Dawn air.

 **00000**

Second fell back into his chair with an exasperated sigh and placed a hand over his eyes.

First stroked the scar over his temple. "He's such a handful."

"Perhaps it's time we found his successor." Fourth suggested harshly.

"Don't say that." Second said, sliding his hand down his face and over his long beard. "He's the best at what he does, despite being so young."

"He's insubordinate." Fourth insisted, almost growling through clenched teeth. "He has no sense of rank."

"It can't be helped." First told him, earning a cross look from Fourth. "It's just how he is. Be grateful he's so... Enthusiastic about his work. We've been spared all sorts of trouble thanks to him."

"And it could be worse." Second added, lowering his eyelids passively. "He could have turned out like his father: with little to no sense of military strategy or etiquette. Repetitive refusal of promotion and preferring to chuckle over rice crackers to the end of his days. Sengoku's about at his wits with him."

"That would be disastrous." Fourth admitted, having relaxed a bit. "A mini-Garp in CP0—!"

"Lower your voice!" Fifth snapped edgily, startling each of his peers into a jolt . "Honestly... Do you want him to hear you? At least wait until he has left Mariejois before you speak of such things."

The four turned serious, and shared looks of deep concern. Fifth was correct. Dragon could never know about his lineage, and thankfully he'd never asked. If he were ever to learn the truth... Only disaster awaited them.


	2. chapter 1: CP0 and the Rackham Pirates

**Okay, so this is the first real chapter, in which you get to know Dragon and Luke (one of my funny OC's) a bit. I won't be revealing everything at once, but I'll tell you that Dragon is very, very special, and he doesn't remember his parents or hometown.**

 **I do not own One Piece.**

 **00000**

Chapter one: CP0 and the Rackham pirates

Dragon strode through the dark halls in the back of the Mariejois palace, where the agents of Cipher Pol "Aegis" 0 were housed.

The walls were sound proof, and one could not find a single window in any of the halls or chambers. The doors were heavily secured, with guards posted in front of the meeting and file rooms 24/7. Even the washrooms were well protected, though Dragon could never imagine why. Perhaps the head of CP0 feared someone would poison the shampoo?

He stalked past several guarded doors to reach his bedroom. It, thankfully, was located in a currently empty hall. He stared at the thin opening under the door. The darkness within the room seemed to consume what little light could be found outside of it.

When he was younger, he'd avoided this room as much as possible. The loneliness he felt when entering was enough to choke and devour him. He'd preferred to sleep in various other places, including the roof and a small cupboard. Anywhere but in there.

He turned the knob, stepping fully in without hesitation and releasing the door so it swung shut with a soft "click."

Automatically, the too-bright ceiling light turned on. He'd used to wonder how they worked, as there was no dial or switch for them anywhere on the walls and his immediate presence hadn't been enough to activate them.

These days, he couldn't care less.

He found the ever-fully-packed rucksack sitting on the floor beside the bed. For the umpteenth time that week, he reached for it and slung it over his shoulder. He reached around and flicked his dark hood up.

He took a look in the small mirror permanently bolted to the wall. That stupid mirror, which he hated even more than the room itself. He saw no necessary reason for it being there other than to serve as a constant reminder to what he had become as an orphan "saved" by CP0.

His overshadowed, angry eyes stared back at him. His own gaze was piercing, scrutinous, in no way resembling the almost-happy child he'd been a long, long time ago.

He felt the sting of old, steaming rage rise in his gut as Akainu's words from years past came back to him:

 _"... A lifeless brat with a death wish and sick eyes that hate the world."_

"Nobody asked you." Dragon rebuked, before shaking his head and pressing a finger against the spot between his eyebrows.

He remained like that for a moment as he shoved at horrific memories and too many emotions before they finally retreated. With his mind cleared of all but his new objective, he let his hand fall to his side. He found himself staring at the glossy wooden tiles, apparently having been waxed not-too recently, and saw his reflection there too. Only with his eyes lost in darkness.

Good.

He made to leave the room, but froze when he opened the door to find two tall, lanky figures blocking his path.

Two of his fellow operatives were there, sneering down at him.

Dragon clenched his free hand while the other tightened around the door knob. Great, just perfect. This was exactly what he needed.

"Hey, kiddo!" Zachary, A.K.A the black reaper, grinned wickedly at him as he leaned against the doorframe on one arm.

"What do you want?" Dragon spat as he imagined a painful, nasty, slow death for him.

"Maaan, don't be so rude!" Dominic, A.K.A. the Ocean Ghoul, ordered aggravatingly. He uncrossed his arms to jab a finger at Dragon while turning to Zachary. "This kid has gotten way too overconfident."

"Yeah, and after all that we've done for him!" Zachary chuckled maniacally, leaning down so he was on the same eye-level as Dragon. "Kid should be more grateful!"

Zachary jerked back, spitting out blood and teeth. The back of his head slammed into the wall with such force it left a small depression behind.

Dragon lowered his foot and shot a daring glare at the one remaining. Dominic gaped at Zachary in horror for a moment before turning on Dragon and attempting to knee his face in.

Dragon saw it all before he even moved. As the attack came at him, time seemed to slow down with Dominic's knee mere centimeters from his skull. Dragon flexed his fingers, and they turned the familiar sleek black of armament haki.

He caught the knee in his hand, gripping it tightly so Dominic couldn't escape.

"Curse you!" Dominic shouted, panicked,angry eyes meeting younger ones full of concentrated rage.

Perhaps it was his irritation at the Gorosei or maybe the knot of anxiety currently swelling up in his chest. Or maybe he was just so—damn—sick of this pathetic half-wit, but Dragon was in an extremely foul mood at the moment. More so than usual. And he was hardly willing to condone the nauseating company of two fools who used to deliver unto him savage beatings every time he attempted to escape this so-called "holy land."

Dragon crushed Dominic's knee in his hand as if it were a rotten banana. The Ocean Ghoul howled in agony and dropped to the ground, gripping his bleeding, broken, mess of a joint in his hands and looking horrified as small tears welled up in his eyes.

Zachary had gotten back on his feet by now, and swung a bo-staff coated with armament haki at Dragon's skull. His eyes zeroed in on the weapon as it advanced, pupils shrinking as it drew closer. At the last minute, he drop-knelt, his fingers ghosting over the tiles before he pressed them to a stop. The hardened staff smashed through the doorway and inched its way through the wall to a halt. The air was full of an odd confetti consisting of splinters and marble.

He jerked his legs forward, stepping into Zachary's shadow and slamming black knuckles into his chin from below.

The Black Reaper seemed to shatter into pieces as his eyes turned round, white and empty. Dragon lowered his fist and stepped back, watching as the man crumpled to the ground to lay besides his comrade. The pair of them were all twitches and gasps.

Dragon stepped over them both, expression hard and heart numb at the thought of what the Red Dog would have to say to him after this.

 _Whatever_ , he thought as he adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder. _It won't be anything new to me._

 **00000**

 ** _Several days later_**

"Flint! Captain Flint!"

Luke's brow furrowed in protest at his afternoon nap being interrupted by his boisterous crew mates yet again. Along with the voices there was this incessant knocking that had invaded his subconscious and caused him to dream of an avalanche.

There would be neither peaceful sleep nor dream aboard _The Red Throne_ , pirate ship of Flint Rackham and his noisy, but loyal, crew.

Luke turned his head from where it, and the rest of him, were laying on the ship's railing. His eyes flickered open groggily to see the majority of his friends gathered in front of the captain's quarters, with Thomas (bald-headed, big-hearted, scar faced git) banging his fist on the door.

"Captain Flint, please come out!" Thomas begged, followed by a chorus of "please come out!" from the rest of the crew.

Luke sat up, slightly curious, and threw his legs off the railing so they hung over the ship's deck. He stared blankly at the crew as the door was finally thrown open.

Captain Flint was disheveled. His shirt was both tucked in and hanging out. He was holding his pants up, and his boots were completely gone. He was wearing only one sock, pulled halfway on. His usually neat, jaw-length black hair was a frizzy, curled mess on one side with the other swept into the air.

"WHAT THE HELL IS IT, FOOLS?!" He demanded, all red-faced and beyond cross.

"We can't open—!" They all sang out, with Thomas lifting a large jar into the air. "This pickle jar!"

Captain Flint dropped to the ground, with one leg stuck in the air and twitching in annoyance.

Luke grimaced, squaring his shoulders. He should've known this involved food.

Flint shot to his feet and leaned over Thomas in a mad rage.

 _"Idiots!"_ He yelled, taking the jar and twisting it open with ease before shoving it back into Thomas' hands. "Anything else?!"

"Yes, captain!" Every other crew member raised more pickle jars. "Please open these as well!"

Luke chuckled lightheartedly.

Flint threw an arm out at them, waving it up and down vertically with his fingers pressed together.

"Morons!" He screamed, eyes bugging out. "Why do we have so many pickles anyway?!"

"Because we're men, Captain!" They all replied at once.

"Ah! Except for Mistress Bonnie!" Thomas reminded. "Speaking of which, where is she? I haven't seen her around for hours!"

 _"Captain, come back to bed—!"_ Called a weary, whining voice from within the Captain's quarters. At the sound of it, captain and crew's eyes bugged out, their eyebrows shooting up. All eyes flickered to Luke.

Luke's blood pressure skyrocketed as soon as he put two and two together. Bonnie's satisfied and eager tone, and the captain's disorganized apparel... It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened.

His grip on the railing was so tight the whole crew could hear the crack of splitting wood.

Luke slipped off the railing and marched over to his captain in a murderous rage. The crew screamed in horror, throwing their arms in the air as they ran for it. The captain leaned against the door framed as if trying to make himself appear as part of the wall.

"N-Now, now Luke! Buddy! Calm down!" Captain pleaded with a nervous smile and panicked eyes as Luke's arm shot out and grabbed the shameless idiot by his collar. "S-She started it! And, I'm going to take responsibility for it, p-promise!"

"SHUT UP, YOU SOUL-LESS SLIME!" Luke bellowed, making his captain cower down against the frame. Luke pulled Flint's knife from his sheath and pressed the tip into his neck. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH MY SISTER!?"

"Sir Luke, please calm down!" Thomas begged, approaching him cautiously and holding out the jar. "Here, have a pickle!"

Luke shot him a death glare that reduced the man to tears. Some other crew mates came and helped him retreat back to the crowd, muttering nervously as they went.

"Luke, get your hands off my darling!" Bonnie shouted as she came rushing to the doorway wearing a blanket... _and nothing else._

Luke's forehead vein was threatening to pop in his skull, and his eyes held an infuriated glint that made the captain curl his lips back as his eyes turned big and scared. The crew stood by, crying as they waved white handkerchiefs in farewell.

But Bonnie shoved Luke away and stepped between him and Flint. Her fiery, resolved eyes and offended expression allowed her to meet her brothers mad fury eye for eye.

"Luke, kill my darling and I'll disown you!" She threatened, jabbing a finger into his collar.

"Don't give me that crap!" He hissed, practically emitting his own lightning. "Find someone closer to your own age!"

Bonnie pouted. "Humph. Listen to you! What's ten years?"

Luke jerked his head to the side, his hands shaking as he grit his teeth.

 _"You—!"_ He growled, on the verge of pulling his hair out.

"Shut it!" She interrupted, taking the captain's limp arm. "We talked it over and we decided that if you weren't okay with it we'd make it up to you somehow, but we're sticking together!"

Luke leaned over her. "Bonnie!"

"LUKE!" She shouted. "Learn your place and stay out of my business! And if you kill Flint, I'll shoot for someone even older than him!"

Luke shuddered. Like twenty years older? Hell no!

He placed a twitching hand over his mouth, lest he say anything that would cause Bonnie to decide she was in love with _all_ the men on this ship. Then Luke would have to kill everyone...

He bowed his head and pinched his nose bridge, gnashing his teeth together. Alas, that small trace of calm brought back memories of what life was like before Flint asked the siblings to join his crew.

They'd been on the run from just about everyone. Too often, they came close to dying of wounds, starvation, or hunger. Until a certain idiotic crew showed up, complimenting their ability to beat down even the strongest rogues. The captain, a good man with morals who was also a pirate, offered them a place to stay and to be free. He and Luke had even drank together, too, which made them brothers in a way—

Which made this feel even more nauseating! Dammit!

But Bonnie's eyes were full of conviction. And he'd always been a sucker for those eyes, caving in to whatever passing whim or life-changing decision she made. She had that effect on him as one of the only two remaining family members he had left.

He let out an aggravated sigh.

"Fine!" Luke spat. "He can live. But this doesn't mean I support you."

Bonnie turned her nose up at him with a smirk. "Ha! Like we need your support!"

"So how was she, captain?!" Thomas asked, beaming stupidly.

Flint grinned, highly pleased. "Quite good! Very—!"

Luke pulled his tongue from his mouth and prepared to cut it off, making Flint scream in horror as Bonnie grabbed her brother's arm to try and calm him down.

 **00000**

Not far away, in a cheap inn located in a small port town, Dragon peered out the window at the approaching ship.

"The Red Throne, huh?" He muttered.

He turned away from the window and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Luke Read, first mate of the Rackham pirates." He said, letting just the slightest trace of sympathy into his tone. "I hope you're having fun today. By tonight... you'll be dead."

 **00000**

 **Alright that's all for now! I am writing a novel and that takes precedence, so don't expect an update TOO quickly. Also, please review. I will be forever grateful for any advice, compliments, and creative criticism. And I will express my gratitude with quicker updates. A lack of reviews may lead me to drop off the map.**


	3. Chapter 2: Lucky Luke

**Alright, so chapter 3 came to me a little quicker than I expected. So, update! I hope you guys are liking it. I'm already proud of this Luke OC I created. In case you were wondering, his sister, Bonnie, is the same Jewelry Bonnie that can change her age. She doesn't have that devil fruit yet.**

 **Please enjoy, favorite/follow, and review!**

 **I do not own One Piece**

 **00000**

A World of Difference

chapter 2: Lucky Luke

"Alright men! We'll drop anchor here for the night!"

Luke hummed in disapproval at his captain's booming voice reaching him even in the anchor room three levels below deck.

Laying atop a pile of rope was neither safe nor comfortable, never mind how he may have looked comfortable with his arms folded behind his head and his ankles crossed. His back was reclined at an angle, as if he were laying in a beach recliner, and for a few moments he'd been capable of pretending he was.

But that defeated the purpose of this little "experiment," and that was too see which occupied his mind more: the bone-cracking back pain currently flaring up and down his spine, or the disgust and rage he felt towards his Captain.

Luke was not what one would call an intelligent fellow. He could hardly read, and that went for maps, books, compasses, and nearly everything else. His confusion regarding math was "downright horrendous" as Flint once put it after he'd been told to buy two-dozen melons at the market and came back with over a hundred. He wasn't very good at reading people either, so certain things that were obvious to others went right over his head.

He knew all of this because he'd always possessed these qualities, and Bonnie had enjoyed teasing him about them over the years. Frankly, he never really cared much. A _man_ was the way he was. And he enjoyed being a man. Women never really got much respect, weren't taken very seriously, and were often times the subject of abuse—

Luke's expression hardened at that thought. He stretched his left arm over the right side of the pile of rope and picked up the mirror lying on the floor. He held it close to his face, noting the large crack that seemed to separate his left eye and temple from his nose and cheek.

Messy, scrappy sandy brown hair which reached no lower than his earlobes. Two thin eyebrows of the same color. A pointed chin and a short, sharp, slightly-upturned nose. Dark eyes that were usually upbeat and brimming with endless optimism had now turned grim and disappointed.

 _You look like a girl_ , he'd been told once by a drunken wretch when he was just a child. The words had been cold, uncaring, yet spat like venom. Luke had a feeling the man hadn't thought the comment served as an insult, but where he and Bonnie came from decent women were few in number.

Luke couldn't help what he looked like. He was lanky and skinny, and no amount of training had helped to remedy that. He wasn't very tall, either, standing at a mere half-inch above Bonnie and that might have been thanks to his being fourteen months older than her.

Luke tightened his grip on the mirror. Bonnie was another reason he was grateful for being a man. His baby sister, who lacked morals, manners, and possessed only the finest degree of common sense. There was pride in Bonnie, burning like a roaring fire, and strength that helped her match and overwhelm every man they'd ever met, including Captain Flint, and that was saying something. However, Luke's sister was still a girl, and although she'd never really needed rescuing she worried him to no end. At twenty-two years old, Luke should've had endless wrinkles and more gray hairs than colored ones.

As for how she worried him, there were too many reasons too list. One of his key concerns was probably her taste in men and how she handled them. The captain was hardly her first... _Partner._ By the time Luke was seventeen, she'd been with over a dozen men, all of them in their late twenties to mid-thirties. All of them marines, leading to Luke's distinct and unwavering hatred of the whole damn navy. Each and every time she returned to Luke's side after one of her little night excursions, he'd give her an earful and thus vent a little of his pent up rage whilst lowering his ever-mounting blood pressure.

And she'd give him presents. These gifts were expensive, and rare. Jewel encrusted daggers and rifles, fresh produce, and various dishes of meat from some of the finest restaurants they'd come across. He'd never fallen ill, but after expressing his concern about wounds that became infected (or even started rotting) when they weren't treated correctly, Bonnie had brought nearly a whole hospitals worth of medicine to him. He'd eyed a glass armband in a shop window for a little too long, and the next day Bonnie gave it to him as a birthday present... _Eight months in advance._

Again, he was slow. So it took him a while to realize what was happening. Whether she was stealing from them or if she were being... _Paid_ , he didn't know, but it was obvious she was making money out of it. He'd tried speaking to her about it, pleading with her not to sell herself, especially not to men who weren't worthy of her, but she'd denied it tooth and nail and proceeded to do it again, repeatedly.

He realized he was still holding the mirror when it started to slip in his suddenly sweaty hands, and set it beside him atop the rope.

She'd brought him clothes too, all of which he was currently wearing: a white button down silk shirt, black pants, and a long, flashy blue coat with silver buttons and a high collar trimmed in gold. Then there was his brown captain's hat (which Flint had tried to steal from him on a number of occasions) with a long white feather and beads strung from the bottom. There was also his black boots, not to mention the holster for his gun, and the straps for his pipe-staff and sword, which resided at his sides and back respectively.

All in all, he was grateful. It was kind of heavy to wear all of it, all the time, but he looked very manly. And no one else had called him girly-looking in years, thanks to Bonnie.

But the price was too high, both literally and figuratively.

That was another reason he was indebted to this crew, and to his Captain. As soon as they joined the Rackham pirates Bonnie ceased to disappear behind unfamiliar locked doors for hours on end. The knot of guilt and gratitude in Luke's gut began to unravel and a few weeks ago it disappeared completely.

But he was stupid.

Now that he had time to sit and think about it, he'd remembered how he could wake up in the middle of the night and find the Captain and Bonnie out on the deck, talking, looking alive and very close as they sat with their shoulders and knees touching. He could clearly picture in his mind how they both beamed when Bonnie ran into his arms for a hug, both of them laughing their heads off as the Captain spun them around. They fed each other, too, with the crew giving them gaping, nervous, or stunned looks while also passing glances at Luke, who wolfed down his dinner and disappeared to train without paying the strange behavior of his sister and Captain any thought.

Only now, after he'd found Bonnie in Flint's bed in the middle of the day did he notice any of these things and realize what they meant.

And it all pointed to them being...

He pushed the thought away and pulled his hat down spitefully. No, just no. He couldn't accept this. It was like sinking into lukewarm water filled with piranhas and he just could _not_ take it.

His captain, possibly his closest friend, and his baby sister whom he'd sworn to protect since they were tiny children. In the back of his mind he knew there was no other man whom Luke could entrust her to should something happen to him. He could admit, begrudgingly, that Bonnie had only become truly happy once she met Flint.

And their Captain was no ordinary pirate. He was strong, with an eighty-million berry bounty on his head. He had morals, and if Luke excluded recent events, a heart of gold. He was not much interested in pillaging or robbing, which was one of the factors that led Luke to join his crew. He preferred stormy seas over calm ones and possessed an idiotic sense of humor which Luke was more than capable of relating to.

Their friendship and brotherhood were still intact. Luke cared for Flint, just like he cared for Bonnie. But he had a duty as her older brother...

An image of them grinning madly at each other, both up to no good, flashed through Luke's mind. His heart ached a bit, and he wondered if he were possibly... Jealous. Of what they shared. Of what he _didn't_ share... with anyone.

That... what they had, if they had it... He could never have. Never. If he allowed that to happen then this, all of it, would break and fixing it would be impossible. The peace they shared would vanish, and he had no way of knowing what would take it's place: broken will or renewed strength?

He just couldn't risk it. Not after everything they'd suffered through to reach this place of happiness and belonging. For Bonnie, for his crew, for Luke himself, he had to go on—

"Luke! Sir Luke!" Daniel called from halfway down the hall, outside the door.

Luke, now nonchalant after sorting out his thoughts, sat up and made his way to the door. He opened it, leaning out and looking down both sides of the hall before spotting Dan at the foot of the stairs.

"I'm over here." Luke said.

Dan whirled and threw his arms up, smiling in relief with one tear in the corner of his eye. Luke chuckled and stepped into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

Dan ran to him, trapping him in a bear hug. Dan was a short fellow, with the top of his head barely reaching Luke's collar bone. He was also strong, so Luke slowly turned a nasty shade of purple.

"Sir Luke!" Dan shouted happily, lifting the first mate into the air. "I'm glad you're still here! I thought you might have left us! I hadn't seen you for hours!"

"Can't—breath—!" Luke choked out, alarming Dan so he set Luke neatly on the ground.

Luke took a deep breath and noticed Dan was staring at him strangely.

"What is it?" He asked, confusion written all over his face.

Dan pointed at him. "Sir Luke, you're chest... It's really cold. Are you sick?"

Luke blinked blankly at him before he wrapped his arms around his stomach and burst out laughing. Dan looked concerned, and reached out to him, but Luke straightened up and raised one hand to stop him, flashing a confident smile to let his friend know he was okay.

"Don't worry, I'm not sick." He assured him, and turned his fist around to rap his knuckles against his chest, causing a deft sound to echo down the hall.

Dan stood there, puzzled, until understanding dawned on him and he started clapping, stars in his eyes.

"Metal plating!" Dan cheered in awe. "That's amazing sir! Did miss Bonnie give it to you?"

Luke ignored his sinking heart and grinned like a cat from ear to ear, crossing his arms.

"Nah, I stole it from the captain!" He told Dan. "Remember that armor he bought weeks ago that he's still looking for?"

Dan burst out laughing. "You've had it this whole time?!"

"Yeah, but don't tell him." Luke pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes lit up with a playful joy. "It's too funny watching him check under the bunks every night before we turn in."

Dan leaned over, pressing his hands over his stomach, as if his gut were about to burst. Luke leaned back, infinitely proud of himself as his expression softened and a warm feeling spread through his chest.

It was the easygoing moments like these, where laughs from the bottom of the heart were shared, that made all Luke's sacrifices and anguish worth it.

If he could go on, living free with his friends on this ship, then he was content. He didn't need anything else.

"Light's out, men!" Came the Captain's voice from above. "We've got a lot of supplies to gather tomorrow! We're headed to the Grand Line!"

"Aye-Aye!" Cheered the crew, and Luke could hear Bonnie's carefree shout over the voices of the rowdy men.

He sighed happily, closing his eyes.

"Ah, I guess I'll head to bed." Dan said, turning and walking halfway down the hall before stopping and turning back to Luke. "Are you coming, sir?"

Luke tilted his head to the side, squinting and thinking it over before looking at his friend and shaking his head.

"Nah, I think I'll head up top." Luke said, thinking of stargazing. "Someone ought'a keep watch."

Dan frowned, a little concerned. "Are you alright, sir?"

"I'm fine." Luke nodded to the floor above. "Go on."

Dan smiled and rushed off, leaving Luke to his own devices.

 **00000**

Luke pushed the door in the deck open and climbed out with an "umph!"

He got to his feet, brushing the dirt off his clothes. He yawned, stretching both arms as he walked to the edge of the deck and placed his hands on the railing.

Cool night air lifted his coat and knocked his hat lopsided so it covered one eye. He pushed it back into place with one finger, bringing the moon into focus.

"Haaa..." Luke sighed in awe. It seemed bigger than usual, even though it was just a half-moon.

Half... Moon...

He knit his brow. This night... the calm was almost eerie. Like... A storm was coming...

"Thank you for coming up, 'Lucky Luke.'"

Luke flinched, feeling his insides freeze. More cold air washed over him, and he had to struggle to look over his shoulder.

There was a shadowy figure there. Luke could hardly see him, as he was dressed fully in black and it was night time. The only real visible parts of him were his sharp, calm eyes and his hooded cloak, which fluttered in the wind.

Luke felt anger join the fear in his heart. He half turned, not releasing his grip on the railing.

"Who are you?" He demanded to know.

"I've come for your head." He stated bluntly, and Luke tensed. "Don't struggle unless... you want your crew to get involved?"

At the mention of his crew, Luke's fear was pushed to the back of his mind. He glared at the masked figure, feeling a prickling instinct in his gut that always meant _bad news, danger._

He breathed through his nose and bowed his head, sharpening his own gaze.

A moment passed in which all was still and silent. Luke could feel the bewildering urge to draw his pistol, but he had a feeling bullets wouldn't work on this guy. Still, years of being on the run had given him enough survival instincts to drive him into paranoia, and more than enough experience in being quick.

His fingers twitched, and the figure passed him a look of brief and mild warning.

Luke gulped, knowing full well his life was in danger. But...

"I refuse to die!" He declared, managing to draw his sword and block his enemy's dagger when it was a hair's width from his face.

The figure stood in Luke's shadow, towering over him and forcing him to lean back over the railing as soon as he blocked the attack.

Luke grit his teeth, staring into the cold eyes of his would-be assassin. Those eyes...

He gasped and temporarily lost the ability to breath.

 _"Shiroryuu,"_ Flint had said a while back _, "They say 'his looks_ can _kill.' Some claim he's sent the death toll of CP0 through the roof. Nah, through the clouds. They say, they say, they say."_

 _"Is all that true?"_ Luke had asked _._

 _The captain took a swig of rum, breathing contently and passing Luke a weak smirk._

 _"Who knows?" He said, setting the bottle down on the table. "People love to talk. But one things for certain: CP0's no joke. When they say they'll kill you... You're already dead."_

Luke growled under his breath, his eyes gleaming and his heart burning with a sort of madness that had not possessed him for a long time.

"You're CP0." He said, not even bothering to ask.

After a long silence, he replied: "... Yes."

Luke's breath returned to him in short bursts. "You're Shiroryuu..."

"My name is irrelevant." He replied too quickly, indicating that Luke had touched a nerve.

"Why do you want... My head?!" Luke asked, pushing back and just barely managing to move the knife.

The figure stared down at him, looking annoyed. Luke glared up, determined to fight, win, and survive.

He would live to keep sailing with the Rackham Pirates.


	4. Chapter 3: A Fight to the death

**Alright! Now for chapter 3. First I would like to ask that everyone stay calm! As for the question that might pop into your head, the answer is yes.**

 **I do not own one piece**

 **00000**

A World Of Difference

Chapter 3: A fight to the death and bellowing laughter

"Why do you want... My head?!"

 _I don't you fool._

Dragon narrowed his eyes, pushing the thought away. It meant too little and too much all at once, which was contradictory and distracting. It was proof that he was still human, and possessed a beating heart and a soul despite all that had been done to try and remedy that.

But they were buried _deep_ , deep down, where he could barely feel them. Otherwise he could never kill someone like Luke Read.

He knit his brow at that thought. What made this pirate different from the others?

This moment of distraction was folly on Dragon's part, because it allowed Luke Read an opening. The young man surprised him by keeping the sword still with one hand and reaching to his pipe-staff in a flash, drawing it out and aiming a swift blow to Dragon's neck in one swing.

Of course, Dragon noticed in time, and the pipe clapped into his raised palm, becoming trapped in his fist. Immediately, Luke Read jumped back, freeing Dragon's other hand from the would-be stalemate. Luke slid his hand down to the end of the pipe, sheathing his sword and pressing a small section of the pipe in.

Dragon released the weapon before the small spikes could butcher his hand. Luke kept his mouth clamped shut as he first slashed above from below, missing Dragon's jaw, then followed up with a downwards slash that missed Dragon's shoulder, but brushed against his clothes.

Luke grinned wildly, looking a little crazed as he raised the pipe high in the air before striking it down on the end of one of the wooden deck boards.

The plank Dragon was standing on rose, with the opposite end forced down by Luke's weapon. He felt mildly shocked, one foot now higher than the other. Luke drew his sword and sliced at his leg, but Dragon stepped off the board, vanishing before Luke's stunned eyes.

"That was a brilliant effort." Dragon praised, his tone apathetic. "But I'd already noticed the floor was weak when I stepped there."

Luke twisted around, enraged, and looking like a trapped beast.

"You—!" He cried, before Dragon kneed him right in the chest, forcing him into the air.

His pupils dilated, whitening, as he hung there in the air for a moment. Dragon turned on his heel, punching him in the chest, and sending him flying into a stack of wine barrels which burst open upon impact.

The pipe-staff fell from the sky, clattering to a stop upon the deck mere moments before it began raining deep purple wine. Dragon pinched the edge of his hood, pulling it further over his skull to shield his face.

Luke Read was silent, sitting in the wreckage like it were some spiked iron-maiden arm chair. His head hung low, his arms and legs cut raw by the splintered wood. Dragon noted lots of scarlet blood mixing with the purple wine now dying the wood and soaking through the cracks in the deck.

Luke Read's chest was still. Dragon approached him, pulling off his gloves by the tips of his middle fingers and shoving them in his pocket.

A loud _CRUSH_ like metal caving in still rang in his ears. This man's chest had been a little more solid than most people's, so that punch had been full force. Whatever armor Luke Read had concealed now slipped out from under his ripped shirt. Dragon saw the deep fistprint left in the metal, and felt a little sympathy for Luke Read.

"Are you still alive, 'Lucky Luke?'" He asked, coming to a stop a short distance from the busted barrels and wounded man.

Luke said nothing for a moment. But then a desperate gasp for air escaped him. Dragon frowned deeply, his eyes blank as they reflected the bowed head of a man with a strong will to live.

Luke grit his teeth, his bangs glued over his eyes by a mixture of the blood from his temple and the wine that soaked his hair. He struggled atop the split wood, possibly feeling the pain of fractured bones and his barely functioning heart.

"It would have been better for it to stop completely." Dragon thought aloud. Better that than _this._

Groans of agony came from Luke's mouth, along with near-silent screams. He ripped his arms free and kicked his legs, falling at Dragon's feet like a _bird_ with broken wings and ribs. His coat and hat were left behind, impaled by the wood and stained in blood.

Luke writhed on the ground, hugging his chest as gasps and screams of pain tore from his mouth in long, raw, violent bursts.

Dragon crouched, eyeing him sadly. This person was young, and possessed the sort of will that could move the masses country by country. It wasn't hard to see that.

That was probably why he'd been marked for death. The World Government and the Celestial Dragon's feared _his_ kind the most.

Dragon blinked, making his expression blank as he reached for the man's neck. He wouldn't look away, it was repulsive to try and ignore what he was doing. He would always acknowledge exactly what this was.

Murder.

His eyes shook as he tried to burn the image into his mind. Luke Read's overshadowed eyes. His bleeding ears, nose, and lip. The way his legs lay one on top of the other, with his arms hugging his bruised chest. His soaked clothes...

Dragon froze with a jolt, a gasp escaping him. One dark eye glared out at him from behind soaked bangs.

Dragon shot to his feet, heart racing from the overwhelming shock and confusion. He stumbled back two steps, then three, unable to tear his eyes away from that hateful gaze that dared him to finish what he'd started or face the consequences.

But at the moment, he could barely breath. He hadn't expected that, and that was the real shocker. Usually, there was nothing that surprised him to this extent. He could foresee practically any scenario by observing the ones happening around him. But not this time.

This man _was_ different from others, and not just because of his strong will, or his use of ship damages in a fight to the death.

This man wasn't even a man.

"You're a woman?!" Dragon choked out.

Luke Read, or whatever her real name was, lifted her head and shot him a murderous look.

Dragon blinked, unable to believe it. He'd been sent to kill a man, but—

His thoughts broke off there as he felt a sudden, heavy blow to the back of his head. Without warning, the floor flew up at him.

And all went black.

 **00000**

"BWAHAHAHAHA!"

Garp's bellowing laughter rang all throughout Marine HQ. Sengoku knew because his desk was right in front of a wide window, and he could see the birds that had been resting several buildings away now taking off in fright.

"Dammit, Garp!" Sengoku spat, turning to his long-time freind and fellow marine in extreme agitation. "We've both got a lot of work to do! Now get lost, will you?!"

"Calm down, Sengoku!" Garp grinned cheerfully. "You haven't relaxed once since Roger was executed! Play's just as important as work! Here, I'll let you have some rice crackers!"

Sengoku leaned over his desk, his eyes bugging out in agitation.

"I've got six months's worth of paperwork sitting right here, Garp!" He shouted. "Don't act like you don't see it! Now get out of here before you fall out of favor with the big-wigs!"

"Ah, don't worry about the flavor!" Garp assured him, taking another bite. "A child from my home village baked them special! She's a real sweetheart, says she's gonna take over the village tavern some day-"

"I said 'favor' fool!" Sengoku interrupted, turning red. "Not 'flavor,' favor!"

The door opened, and both Marine veterans looked to see Tsuru standing there. She appeared deeply annoyed, but they remained unfazed. She always had that face when she had something to scold about or advise against.

"What are you two doing?" She asked in a demanding, authoritative, yet still respectful tone. "I could hear you even in building E's training rooms."

Sengoku glared pointedly at Garp. The area in question was on the other side of the island.

"Garp, what are you doing back from your vacation?" Tsuru asked, her face falling to a look of mild concern.

Garp shoved another rice cracker in his mouth and bit it in half.

"I chold chuu, Shuru!" He sputtered, swallowing and crossing his arms over his chest. "I ain't taking a vacation. Fuusha's a nice place, but there ain't much to do there but sleep and I can do that here!"

Tsuru's gaze shifted to Sengoku, who met her expression with a grim one of his own. A silent agreement passed between them.

"Garp, Bogard wanted to see you." Tsuru told him, getting his immediate attention. "He said something about training some new recruits. I was actually just with him. They could use your guidance."

"I'm on it!" Garp through his fists in the air. "On my way! Thanks, Tsuru!"

Both Sengoku and Tsuru watched silently as Garp left the room, shutting the door behind him. They waited until the sound of crunching rice crackers could no longer be heard and turned to look at each other.

"How long has he been back?" Tsuru asked.

Sengoku fell back into his desk chair and scratched the top of his head.

"Hours!" He replied in a huff. "They didn't get far. As soon as he woke up on the ship, he demanded to know where it was headed. He even pulled rank on them, so they had no choice but to tell him they were sailing to Fuusha. He went just because Bogard was there, and he convinced him. But he didn't stay more than an hour. Then he ordered them to return to HQ, and they did. Kuzan helped sneak him onto the ship while he was asleep, but it was for nothing."

Tsuru let out a deep sigh, her shoulders slumping. She took one of the guest seats and leaned over the desk, propping her elbows up on the smooth wood and lacing her fingers together so she could rest her chin. Sengoku leaned back in his chair and gave the roof a hard stare.

"It's no one's fault." He said, attempting to comfort her. "He's too stubborn. And it's probably for the best, the gorosei wouldn't like it if one of our Vice-Admirals suddenly took a vacation."

"This isn't about them." Tsuru said, closing her eyes as Sengoku straightened up with a jolt. "I will agree that it is best for him to keep working hard, but he hasn't taken any real time off. Not since—"

"Since _it_ happened." Sengoku cut her off, before she could speak of classified events. "I know."

"Twenty-seven years has passed in the blink of an eye." Tsuru stared at the ridiculous paper stacks sadly. "But to him, it's probably been an eternity. Or even a dream."

"He's alright." Sengoku stated, almost defensively. "It has been years. I'm sure he—"

"You don't lose your wife and son in one day and stay sane, Sengoku." Tsuru insisted.

Sengoku leaned over the desk, shifting some of the paper stacks.

"But Garp does." He argued, confident. "All of that was hushed up. There's no evidence that any of it ever happened. Only the top brass, the marines involved in the matter, and CP0 know anything."

"That might not be best." Tsuru thought aloud, and Sengoku knit his brow.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "It's—"

"'It's for the sake of justice. For the sake of the masses of the world who reside under our protection. For peace.'" Tsuru chanted, old words she'd heard too long ago that burned in her mind. "I'm aware, Sengoku. I know what we must protect no matter what must be sacrificed. However..."

Sengoku saw Tsuru's eyes turn vividly angry.

"...That doesn't mean I have to _like_ it."

 **00000**

 **How about that Tsuru, huh? I'm sorry I'd like to tell you what happened to tear Dragon and Garp apart, but it's just not the right time yet. Just so you know even though Garp hasn't take any time off doesn't mean he doesn't visit Fuusha. He often goes there for work, or he sneaks off to check on baby Ace.**

 **As for Luke: yes, he is really a she. And she is completely in her right mind, just so you know. There are reasons for her cross dressing and lying to others. Also, her name is not really Luke, but she has been going by that for a long time now. I will reveal her true name later.**

 **Now I will reveal the theory that inspired this fanfic: it's the "Luffy's mom is based off of Mary Read." Credits go to Shooter. I suggest you guys check it out, it'** **s really cool.**


	5. Chapter 4: Sazu and Female Luke

**Man, this story is fun and easy to write. Which is essentially one of the main reasons I like writing fanfiction. Do enjoy chapter 5, and sorry about not revealing Luke's real name yet. I plan to do so next chapter. As things stand, Dragon just has to keep thinking of her as Luke, which confuses me into sometimes typing "he" instead of "she."**

 **This chapter starts with a small look at Dragon's experiences growing up in Mariejois with CP0. Sorry if you don't like them living with the world Nobles. We don't know much about CP0 yet, aside from the fact that they work for the celestial dragons.**

 **I would like to thank everyone who favorited/followed this story. Clicking on your usernames and seeing my story right there in someone's favorites list just three chapters in makes me so happy.**

 **Please enjoy chapter four, and if it's not too much trouble, tell me your thoughts.**

 **I do not own One Piece**

A World Of Difference

Chapter 4: Sazu and Female Luke

 ** _Several years earlier_**

 _Seven-year-old Dragon raced down dark ornate hallways with his heart beating wildly in his chest._

 _Terrified eyes brimming with tears looked over his shoulder as the sound of three pairs of footsteps echoed down the corridor, filling his ears and heart with dread._

 _The rucksack of stolen food bobbed against his knees, hidden in black pants that were just a little two big for him. Clenched fists cut through sweet-smelling air as small feet clad in tight shoes clapped against the white, glossy tiles._

 _"Dooooooraaaaagoooonnn." A sneering, taunting voice sang out making the boy choke back tears as heat filled his stomach and threatened to climb up his throat. "Where'd you go? Where-are-you-hiding? You can't escape."_

 _Dragon bit his lip, keeping the heartbroken whimper or moan within where it belonged. He needed to be quiet. If he wasn't quiet, the "treatment" would be worse. It was always worse when he screamed._

 _Even as he thought this, his boisterous footsteps increased in volume._

 _He didn't want to be in CP0. He didn't want to live in Mariejois. He never wanted to see the Celestial Dragons ever again!_

 _He felt like he was choking after running at top speed for perhaps half an hour. Shaking fingers uncurled and reached to adjust the blue scarf his mother had given him when he was just a baby. However, only the collar of an itchy, overbearing black cloak was found and he remembered how the scarf had been tossed into the fire the other day._

 _He forced his breathing to stay calm even as his lungs seemed to shrink and dry up. He used the black gloves pulled over his hands to wipe his tears and nose dry._

I don't wanna go back, _he thought desperately._ Don't make me go back!

 _He turned the bend and smacked head first into someone's jaw. Both boys flew back, clutching forehead and chin respectively._

 _The other boy sat up first._

 _"Shiro, watch where you're going, will you?"_

 _Dragon's eyes widened, cautiously optimistic and surprised. He pulled his hand away to see the boy frowning at him, with one stubborn eye peeking out from under a lopsided, scrappy cap with the symbol "justice" written on. The dagger he usually carried was slipped through the belt strung through the loops of dirty green shorts._

 _"Sazu?" Dragon asked blankly as he pushed himself up too quickly, causing the black hood to fall back into his eyes._

 _"Cheh!" Sazu examined his red sneakers, one of which now had toes poking out. "Geez! What's wrong with you!"_

 _Dragon pouted at him. "What are you complaining about? Just get your hot-shot dad to buy you some decent shoes for once."_

 _"You know I can't!" He snapped, and Dragon ducked his head somewhat shamefully._

 _Sazu squinted at him. "Hey, why were you running anyway?"_

 _"Doooooraaagooon...!"_

 _Dragon whipped his head up, shooting a frightened look over his shoulder. Thankfully, no one was there yet but he could see the shadows of his tormentors as they closed in on him._

 _Sazu's hand clapped over his wrist and dragged him to his feet. The boys dashed away silently, holding their breaths as they turned down a dead-end corridor. Sazu found a supply closet, and yanked the door open, shoving Dragon inside._

 _He hit the floor, tasting dirt and dust and perhaps a little blood._

 _Sazu stepped in behind him, turning the knob as he shut the door so no "click" was heard._

 _He flicked the lock into place and turned to Dragon, who had pushed himself onto his hands and knees and was coughing up the vile taste of the floor._

 _"Aww, gross!" He said, spitting and wiping his mouth on his sleeve._

 _"Quit complaining." Sazu ordered, crossing his arms. "Now, why were those guys after you? Don't tell me you were trying to escape again..."_

 _He trailed off, spotting the rucksack now partially opened and spilling fruits and canned goods onto the floor. Too late, Dragon yanked the bag under his stomach and out of Sazu's line of sight._

 _"You were!" He yelled, as Dragon squared his shoulders and looked away. "Seriously? Is being nearly tortured to death the last time you tried not lesson enough?"_

 _"You don't get it!" Dragon yelled. "You only come here with your dad once every six months! I have to live here!"_

 _Sazu pressed a finger to his lips, looking ticked off as he shot the crack under the door a wary glance._

 _"Do you want my little rescue to be for nothing?" He asked. "Keep your voice down!"_

 _Dragon sighed huffily through his nose and pulled two apples from the bag. He leaned against the barren wall and bit into one of the fruits, keeping the other one trapped between his knees to spare it from the dusty floor. Sazu slid to the ground with his back to the door and watched him eat. He flinched, tilting his head at him._

 _"Hey, you're not crying are you?" He asked._

 _Dragon stopped eating long enough to dry his eyes and shake his head._

 _"Well, that's convincing. " Sazu muttered sarcastically. Something seemed to come over him and his expression changed from guarded and judgmental to almost... Caring._

 _"Look, I'd like to be able to say 'I've got your back,' but..." He began as Dragon wolfed down the last of the first apple and started on the second. "I can't stay here. I don't want to think about you taking another string of beatings whenever I'm not around to pull you out of the lurch. So just behave, okay?"_

 _"No!" Dragon told him, and Sazu glared stubbornly back at him. "It's horrible here! I hate CP0! I wanna go back home!"_

 _"Quit that!" Sazu snapped, proceeding over Dragon's defiant look. "You know why you're here! I told you, I overhead my dad talking with some of the veterans. You've got some crazy power, Shiro. If it isn't kept under control, you could cause a panic or maybe even hurt innocent people! Do you get it? You can't go home. You might not even have one anymore."_

 _Dragon's face had fallen into a melancholic frown. He started to take another bite of the second apple, but stopped and curled himself into a ball with his head between his knees with the apple trapped in his grip._

 _"Sazu..." He whimpered._

 _"Yeah, what is it?" The other boy asked casually, leaning against the door._

 _"Are you scared of me?" Dragon asked, fearfully._

 _"Hell no."_

 _Dragon hesitated, but looked up. The boys exchanged sunny, ear-to-ear grins._

 **00000**

 ** _Present Day_**

Dragon stirred, groaning as the pain in his skull hit him immediately. Something warm and grimy was caked into the hair at the back of his head. The same substance was stuck to the back of his neck and glued some portion of clothing to his skin.

He tried to move, but found that his arms were outstretched with his hands trapped above him, locked in a pair of hand cuffs.

He tilted his head, moaning and flinching inwardly as his head pounded in protest, with more blood spilling down his neck.

"You up, Shiroryuu?" Asked a voice some might have mistaken to be warm and charming.

Dragon's eyes flickered open, his eyelids weighed down by dirt, sweat, and grime.

Flint Rackham sat backwards in a kitchen chair as he gazed down at Dragon. His smooth jaw-length black hair and long black button down jacket giving him the appearance of a noble man, he displayed a charming smile as if he were welcoming an old friend on board.

An old friend...

Dragon glared pointedly at Rackham.

"I blame you." He said curtly, thinking of the dream.

Flint chuckled. "Sorry, buddy, dunno what you're talking about."

Dragon looked around, and deduced from the single bed, and the desk with the logbook, that he had to be in the captain's quarters. It was a medium sized room, lit up by a single oil lamp.

He was also aware of his intended target, Luke Read (or whoever she really was) sitting in the desk chair in only a pair of shorts with the majority of her chest and legs bandaged up. Short, clean, light brown hair framed angry dark eyes. At her side was Bonnie Read, her half-sister according to the reports, who had her arms crossed as she gave Dragon a threatening look.

Dragon looked back up to Flint Rackham, who smiled down quaintly at him.

"Sorry to accuse you," Flint began, "But my lady here says you were trying to kill my first-mate? And in the dead of night, after we'd all gone to bed."

Dragon raised both eyebrows at him. "You're being surprisingly calm about all this. Or were you two in on it?"

"In on what, mate?" Flint asked, beaming.

Dragon nodded to Luke. "Her cross dressing. Or gender confusion or whatever it is. Is she lying to the crew or do they know about it too?"

Flint waved one finger at Dragon. "Tsk, tsk. Too many questions. And really, it's I who should be interrogating you. But I guess I'll tell you that I found out hours ago, after my lady whacked you over the head with a shovel—"

"A _shovel?"_ Dragon asked in disbelief. It _felt_ like a ten ton hammer.

"—And my freaking out is over and done with." Flint continued. "As for the rest of the crew, they'll find out in due time."

"No, they won't, Captain."

"Quiet, Bonnie, we can't lie to our friends like this." Flint said matter-of-factly.

Luke raised her hand. "Captain, look at me when I'm talking to you, or learn the difference between my sister's voice and mine."

Flint's jaw dropped open. He craned his neck to see Luke frowning at him. Flint paled, his eyes bugging out, and he shot to his feet while gripping his head.

"LUKE'S VOICE CHANGED!" He screamed in shock. "LUKE SOUNDS LIKE A WOMAN! LUKE IS A WOMAN! LUKE HAS BOOBS!"

Luke grit her teeth and pushed her chair back, marching over to her captain to give him a good whack over the head. She grabbed his collar and yanked his head back up so that they were on eye-level.

"Keep your mouth shut, stupid!" She hissed. "You're way the Hell too loud!"

Dragon frowned and blinked, not surprised by the man's stupidity. But didn't he just say his "freaking out" was "over and done with"?

The door was thrown open, and another crew mate half-entered the room, looking outraged in a nightcap and a long blue nightshirt.

"Captain, you're noisy! I'm trying to sleep here—"

He broke off. Dragon watched, somewhat amused as everyone's jaws dropped low enough to touch the floor.

Luke put one hand up, looking like she was trying to keep from panicking.

"Now, hold on Thomas." She half-warned.

Thomas pointed a shaking finger at Luke. "Sir L-L-Luke! Y-You're body! It's really c-curvy!"

With that, Bonnie Read knocked him out with the shovel. He hit the floor like a sack of flour, and Dragon grimaced, feeling a great deal of sympathy for the poor fellow.

"Bonnie!" Flint and Luke scolded in unison.

Bonnie pressed a finger to her lips and hushed them. She bent down, grabbing Thomas by the shoulders and dragging him in so she could shut the door.

"How could you do that to Thomas!" Flint asked as Luke turned away and put her face in her hands.

Bonnie tapped the end of the shovel on the floor, looking extremely proud of herself as she gave Flint a thumbs up and a smirk.

"Don't worry!" She said. "I only used half the force!"

Flint stepped forward, raising one hand with twitching fingers that looked like they were trying to strangle the air.

"You could've killed him!"

Luke groaned, squaring her shoulders.

"This is bad." She said, earning the concern of her captain and sister. "This is really, _really_ bad."

Dragon saw blush spread over her nose and across her cheekbones. Her mouth turned squiggly and nervous, and she put her eyes in her hands.

Flint looked both upset and kind of nauseated. He looked to Bonnie and pointed at Luke.

"She's pretty!" He yelled, though not loudly enough for his voice to travel through walls. "Luke is pretty!"

Bonnie's face fell. "Prettier than me?"

Flint gaped, threw his arms around her, and smiled warmly.

"No!" He declared, and Dragon could practically see the little hearts popping into existence around them.

Luke turned on them, and Flint froze as he watched her punch her palm.

"You two are _pissing me off!"_ She told them, radiating a dark aura that made her captain cower behind his lover.

Dragon sighed. He looked up, and noted that his hand cuffs were _not_ seastone.

He fought back a smirk as Luke came to stand over him, arms crossed. He met her angry gaze, apathetic in the face of her demanding fury.

"You're going to answer my question now." She ordered, and she did sound entirely different from the "man" Dragon had met earlier.

Dragon blinked at her. "Question?"

"Why are you after my head?" She repeated, in a new voice that piqued Dragon's interest.

He fought back the urge to sigh in awe and squinted at her.

"I'm not." He answered truthfully, and Luke raised an eyebrow at him. "It's my job. You're my assignment."

Luke knit her brow at him. "Assignment?"

"I'm CP0." He pointed out. "We get all kinds of work. Assassination is one of them. I was told to take your head. They didn't mention your sister, your captain, or your crew, so I will spare them. But you I have to kill."

Luke arched an eyebrow, confused but mostly angry. "What do you mean 'have to?'"

Dragon gave her a questioning look. "I mean _I have to._ I was told to—"

"Those are two completely different things." Luke interrupted, putting one hand on her hip. "Now, what do you mean 'have to?'"

"It's like I'm talking to a wall here—" Dragon started as he looked away, but Luke sat on her knees in front of him and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look her in the eye.

She had dark eyes that gleamed silver in the eerie light.

"Do you _want_ to kill me?" She asked.

Dragon was frozen stiff by that question, his eyes widening in horror. Want to...?

His heart beat loudly in protest, and he felt an old aching pain fill him at the thought of the body count he'd racked up in the name of "absolute justice." Sazu's favorite words, both then and now. Absolute justice...

Dragon felt lightning shoot up his back and he tore his chin away from Luke's hand, his head dropping as near-frantic breaths escaped him.

Luke observed him scrutinously, and he shut his eyes in an effort to block out her presence, as well as the presence of her sister, captain, and unconscious crew mate. He could feel the shadow of the flame in the oil lamp dance on his face, and hear the cracking of the fire, but he focused on tuning it out. Noise, it was all nothing but noise...

"You know, I've been thinking I wanna kill you." Luke said, and Dragon's eyes drifted open even as they stayed hidden behind a curtain of messy black bangs. "Dunno if I will or not, but it might be for the best. They broke you, didn't they? You won't fight back anymore, because you're already one of them—"

"Shut up." Dragon ordered, whipping his head up to glare at her.

The pair of them glared at each other, as if locked in a battle of wills.

Several moments passed in thick, awkward silence. At some point, Flint Rackham cleared his throat, getting Luke to look at him.

"So, uh, Luke old buddy," Flint said, forcing past the obvious discomfort in his tone to flash Luke a grin, "What do you want to do?"

Bonnie turned, long pink hair flying up. "Isn't it obvious?! We've gotta take care of this guy! He's too strong! We only captured him because I managed to catch him off guard!"

"Let him go." Luke said, causing both her and Flint to jump a bit.

"You can't be serious!" Bonnie shouted, close to arguing.

Luke looked at Dragon sadly, and if he hadn't been mistaken he might have seen some empathy there.

"I am, Bonnie." She said, shutting her eyes. "Just let him go. Now that I think about it, I don't really care for killing someone who can't fight back."

"You all are giving some old handcuffs a little too much credit." Dragon said, and Luke blinked her eyes open at him. "I'm fully capable of taking you all on at once."

Bonnie put her hands on her hips. "What are you talking about? You're chained up!"

Dragon threw his wrists against the shackles, and they tore apart on impact.

Luke backed up, with Bonnie rushing to her side as the captain gaped.

Dragon got to his feet, gripping the now separated cuffs and tearing them off one at a time.

He rubbed his wrists as Bonnie raised the shovel like it was a sword and glowered at him. Luke stood behind her, mutely surprised by Dragon's brute strength.

"I take it you saw this coming?" He asked, tilting his head at her.

"Nope." She said, enraged. "Breaking out, sure. Breaking the chains, no."

Dragon checked the strap on his back, and found that his knife was still there. He drew it, flipping it midair, catching it, and pointing it like a gun at Luke's head.

"I take it you know what come's next." He said, it coming out as a statement rather than a question.

"Get back, Bonnie!" Luke shoved her away and into the captain's waiting arms.

"Luke!" Flint threw his sword to her, and she caught it gratefully before Dragon charged and kicked her through the door and onto the deck.

"Curse you!" Bonnie screamed, attempting to charge but being held back by Flint.

Dragon stepped over the splintered door and calmly approached Luke, who wiped the blood from her mouth and hopped to her feet. Fiery eyes met cold, focused ones. She drew her sword, tossing the sheath aside and dashing across weak tiles.

Dragon saw her jump, raising her sword. He side-stepped out of the way, and pulled his fist back. She fell right into his aim, and he threw a punch that blew her hair up.

She grit her teeth, as if bracing for impact, but made a cross with her forearms and twisted her sword around to catch his fist. Dragon squinted, feeling the brunt force clash against the blade, which was somehow tough enough to withstand his strength.

What was that material? Sea stone? No, it was too fine and sleek to be such a rough metal.

Dragon sliced the dagger through the air, with Luke leaning back to avoid it. If she had not, Dragon would've claimed one of her eyes instead of just cutting up her ear a bit.

Luke ducked, grinding her teeth. She released her cross guard, and Dragon steadied himself to avoid stumbling. Meanwhile, she kept one hand on her sword, still blocking his fist. Long bandaged legs stepped around him too quickly, and Dragon kept his gaze locked on hers.

Angry, fierce eyes flashed, and she pulled her blade free. Time seemed to slow for Dragon instead of his opponent, and his eyes widened as she cut her blade through the air with an aggravated battle cry.

Too slow, he stepped back. The blade came at him, and for a moment he thought he would die. But Luke turned the blade so the flat side knocked into him, with the edge slicing open the skin beneath his eyebrow.

Luke whipped her blade back, deepening the gash, and jumped away. Dragon retreated, his eye in his gloved hand and a hiss of irritation escaping him. Bonnie Read and Flint Rackham stood by, astounded.

Luke flexed her wrist, and the blood danced off the sword. She glared daringly at him.

"For someone who's not sure about killing me, you sure are trying hard enough!" She declared.

Dragon frowned, highly displeased as the blood gushed from his eyebrow and down his face. He made a fist and mopped some of it away with the back of his hand as he met that woman eye for eye.

"Likewise."

 **00000**

 **But she just spared you, Dragon.**

 **If you're wondering about the scarf Dragon mentioned, specifically how he was able to recall that his Mother gave it to him, well there's a reason for that. Little Dragon remembered his mother, just a little. Older Dragon does not. The dream might have helped him remember her if he hadn't been distracted and forgotten most of it the minute he saw Flint.**

 **As for the sword Flint gave "Luke" well it is special.**

 **Until next time! Please review! I would really appreciate it!**


	6. Chapter 5: New Orders and Old Names

**Alright, time for the great unveiling. If you're unhappy with their current attitudes, don't worry. This is a story of great change! That should be obvious, from the prologue. These two, Dragon and Luke, are already dear to me. Please, oh please review! Every new chapter has earned me something, but I would really appreciate your thoughts whatever they are (no hate tho; criticism is fine, but no hate).**

 **I do not own One Piece. Which is fine. I want Dragon's canon back story just as bad as everyone else.**

 **00000**

A World Of Difference

chapter 5: New orders and old names

Dragon ignored his eye, now drowned in blood and temporarily useless, and focused the one remaining on Luke Read. She raised her sword, eyes intense and gleaming in the moonlight.

That sword was a problem. That last punch had as much force behind it as the one that had dented her under armor in their last fight. Yet that blade was able to withstand the full impact and wasn't even bent.

On top of that, she wasn't weak. It wasn't hard to tell, with her wearing mostly bandages and little clothing. She was petite, and thin, yet her limbs were somewhat muscular and steady. Her size would allow for quick maneuvering, as she'd been quick to prove.

 _Speed, an awesome sword, agility._ Dragon summed up.

None of that would've been a problem if it weren't for her ferocity. She had resolve and confidence in her own abilities, which had already worked once as a strength boost.

She'd spent the majority of her life pretending to be a man. And she'd been very good at it, fooling even the spies that had been tailing her for the few weeks prior to Dragon's arrival. So in her eyes, they were equals.

He might have laughed if he weren't so very impressed.

She screamed, her battle cry echoing to the moon and back as she rushed him, sword raised. He felt the hand grasping his knife twitch, and chose to duck rather than block.

He aimed another punch at her chest, knowing full well how sensitive the area was to women. However she saw it coming and leaned back before shifting out of the way... With Dragon's fist thrown at top speed.

His hands lashed out—left,right,left—trying to grab her shoulders or elbow so he could crush them in his hands. Damage to the joints was excruciatingly painful. Dragon would know.

But she dodged him each time, and aimed to slice his head off after his third miss. Unfortunately for her, she threw her arm out in the attempt and he snagged her wrist, gripping it lightly so she couldn't escape even as she struggled to free herself.

She was a good eight inches shorter than him, so he lifted her into the air, clutching her wrist and making her scream in pain. He was faintly aware of her Captain still keeping her shouting sister at bay, but he ignored them and pulled his arm back. His hand formed a three-fingered claw, turning black with his armament haki.

Luke's eyes widened in fear, knowing she was trapped and close to being killed. Dragon didn't hesitate to throw his arm out, pressing his fingers deep into her belly without drawing any blood. A loud, drawn out cracking noise cut through the air, and Luke spat up blood, her eyes now cloudy.

With his attack still in place, she aimed a kick at his jaw, missing but forcing him to let go. Her bandaged feet hit the ground and she caught the sword, cutting it clear through the air, eyes still burning with the desire to win.

Dragon stared at her, half-distracted as he dodged her blade. He was astounded that she could still move at the same speed as before. He must have broken more than a couple ribs just now.

She screamed, cutting up from below and missing his chest just barely but managing to nick his cloak.

He caught the sword in his bare hand as she attempted to slice his shoulder open. The blade remained caught in his grasp above while he stared at the fiery woman who glared up at him.

She was really using all her strength to fight him. She had claimed she was unsure about wanting him dead, but hadn't hesitated to throw multiple fatal blows. Most of the people he was sent to kill had the bad habit of underestimating him, using only a small fraction of their strength and lasting no more than a minute at most. Some did use all their strength, but they were so furious that nothing they tried worked. Some wouldn't fight, but died begging for mercy. Some were asleep when he came to kill them...

This woman was neither cowardly, nor ignorant, nor weak. She was, in fact, unique. How often did one come across a woman masquerading as a man for most of her life? And able to go toe to toe with a CP0 operative using sheer will and raw power?

 _Do you want to kill me?_

 _No I don't._ He decided. _In fact, I'd prefer to let you live._

But he couldn't... He had to kill her.

 _What do you mean 'have to?'_

He stiffened, feeling sweat trail down the side of his face.

"Come on!" She demanded, burning proudly. "If you're going to kill me, then let's see you try!"

He felt fear. Not of her, but of those words. _Why_ did she have to die? _Why_ did he have to kill her? _Why_ had he listened to Sazu all those years ago, and chosen to stop trying to escape?

 _They've made you into one of them._

Dragon felt frustrated. It must have showed, as Luke's face softened a bit. Suddenly, he felt vulnerable, not nearly as much as he had as a small child at the mercy of the CP0 agents who raised him, but even so.

A door was thrown open, and both Dragon and Luke whipped their heads to see the rest of the crew standing on the steps behind the door and in the space in front of it.

The men were stupefied, as their pale faces and gaping mouths so blatantly proved. Dragon couldn't tell which surprised them more: that a stranger was making their vice captain sweat through her bandages, or that said vice-captain was a woman.

"Sir Luke, what...?" One short fellow with dreadlocks mouthed in disbelief.

"Okay, secret's out whether we like it or not!" Flint declared, throwing his arm up without letting go of Bonnie. "Men, we have an enemy on board trying to kill our friend! Take up arms, prepare to fight!"

Dragon narrowed his eyes at him as Luke looked outraged.

"Stay out of this men!" She screamed, her real, feminine voice making them flinch. "This is my fight, and you—"

Dragon planted his fist in her stomach, silencing her. He saw her eyes whiten, and she lost her grip on the sword. It hit the ground with a _clang_ and she slumped over one of Dragon's arms, unconscious.

"Luke!" Flint yelled, stepping forward in a fit of anger.

Dragon sighed through his nose. What now? He didn't want to kill her in front of her entire crew and sister. They'd retaliate. He was only sent to take the one head, not four dozen.

No sooner did he think this did his transponder snail start to ring. The crew stiffened, still enraged as he answered it.

"What do you want?" He demanded in an irritated tone.

"I told you to mind your attitude, didn't I?" Third's voice came through impatiently.

"You're interrupting." Dragon said, not liking the idea of this being drawn out. "I was almost finished."

"Then it's a good thing I called, otherwise you would have made a mistake." Third informed him.

"What do you mean?" Dragon asked, brow furrowed.

"We've changed our minds." Third stated, shocking Dragon to his core. "Don't kill her. Bring her to us instead."

Dragon squinted at the snail, annoyed. "'Her?' You already knew?"

"Well of course we did." Third replied, making Bonnie gasp. Dragon ignored her.

 _"In. That. Case."_ He fought the urge to crush the receiver in his hand. "You could've mentioned something. Or corrected the reports."

"The reports _were_ correct." Third argued. "The spies claimed they saw a man. Luke Read is a man, even if he isn't real."

"What's her real name, then?" Dragon asked, tucking the woman under his arm.

"Never mind that, just bring... Her..."

The voice trailed off as the transponder snail squirmed, eyes bugging out while he hissed static.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked it, but it ignored him and shut off, fast asleep.

"I didn't hang up yet." He told it, wondering what had happened. It snored away.

Dragon squinted at it, and looked up. What could have happened? He'd lost signal. Which should've been impossible. This red transponder snail was a rare luxury, with the World Government only having discovered a small handful of them half a decade ago. They were used exclusively by CP0 and the Gorosei. They were impossible to tap, and could connect to any other red transponder snail no matter where it was in the world.

He waved it a bit, wanting it to wake up and reconnect. But it just went on sleeping.

"Give us back our friend!" Flint yelled, earning Dragon's attention.

"Yes, return Sir- Ah! I mean, miss Luke!" The short fellow from before yelled, still shaken by the discovery.

Everyone in the crew, including Bonnie, raised either sword or gun. While Dragon had been distracted, they'd surrounded him.

"Give her back or we will attack!" Flint warned.

"Surrender, you can't escape!" Another crew mate screamed.

Dragon pocketed the transponder snail as he let out a low sigh. There were too many of them, and they were feeling threatened and angry. He couldn't take the chance of fighting them when he'd already lost who-knew-how-many hours sleeping. He had to get moving and reach Mariejois quickly.

"It's admirable that you're willing to fight me on her behalf, but," He snapped his eyes open, and a shock wave of chilled air blew through the crew. Dragon saw the majority of them crumple to the ground, foaming at the mouth with round, white eyes. Their swords and rifles lay beside them, clean of blood.

"I really don't have time for this." He finished, eyeing the one person who had withstood his haki: Bonnie Read.

She sat with her legs limp and essentially useless, propping herself up on shaking arms and glowering at him from behind a mess of pink hair.

Dragon stared at her for a moment before quietly turning and leaping off the ship.

 **00000**

 _Five hours later_

Dragon examined the red transponder snail closely. The receiver and hook were undamaged, just as he thought. What had cut their conversation short? Some sort of interference...?

With the thick curtains drawn, the room was very dark save for a candle lit atop the desk. Dragon looked to the woman sleeping on her side in the bed. Her wrists and ankles restrained with seastone hand cuffs. He hadn't bothered to gag her, as he'd walked through the village in his CP0 mask. The only sober citizen who'd seen him was the manager of the inn, and he'd looked too terrified to speak. Even if she shouted, no one would bother them.

As for her crew, well he wasn't worried about them. His haki was particularly strong, and once he overwhelmed individuals it took them hours to wake up. Bonnie Read had withstood the shock, but she wouldn't be able to wake them.

He threw his legs off the sill and walked over to the desk. He set the transponder snail down and checked his pocket watch. It was dawn, and people would be getting up to start the day soon enough. They needed to leave before then.

Humming, he looked at her sleeping face once more. She was sweating heavily, probably painfully aware of the situation she was in, conscious or not. He would have preferred to let her rest, but there was no more time for that.

He grabbed her shoulder and gently shook her awake.

"Hey, wake up." He said with a hint of urgency. "We need to talk."

She groaned in protest, long lashes shaking before her eyes flickered open. For a second, she was dazed and just looked at him, confused. But then it hit her, and she jerked back in rage. One of her legs shifted forward, but she paused when she noticed the weight holding her back and looked at her cuffed ankles in terror.

"Why, you—!" She shouted, but Dragon placed a hand over her mouth.

"Keep quiet." He warned, eyes cold. "I'd prefer to be able to talk to you freely but I'm not above gagging you. And all I really need to do is explain."

Sharp eyes cursed him to Hell and back, but she didn't try to speak again. Dragon pulled his hand back slowly without standing, choosing to remain at her eye level.

"There's been a change of plans." He began, propping his chin up on his fist. "I've been told to take you to Mariejois."

Her breath caught in her throat and her pupils shrank. Dragon saw her turn deathly pale and start shaking. He frowned, not surprised by how horrified she was. Even those who were never there feared that place.

"Now, if it were just me I could make it back in no time." He told her, not sure she was even listening anymore. "But since I have you, it'll take longer. If that was it, we might reach Mariejois in two weeks tops, but I have a bit of a problem."

He pointed at the red transponder snail, and watched her eyes follow his finger to the desk.

"The signal was lost and I haven't been able to contact the Gorosei at all." He said. "I'm not sure why. Transponder snails use radio waves to communicate telepathically, so if those same waves have been disrupted somehow their telepathy is essentially useless. If that's the case, everyone's comms are down and we'll likely hear about it. If not, and it's just us, then I should be able to contact them once we've gotten within range. But that will be a while.

"Another thing," He pulled his mask from his cloak. "While we're travelling, we'll do so in disguise so that crew of yours doesn't find us. Well, all I have to do is wear this." He shook the mask. "It's illegal for ordinary citizens to share or sell information regarding CP0. As for you, you'll be dressing like a woman for a change, since no one knows who you really are."

Luke Read's eyes shook with such rage, gleaming in the fire light.

"One more thing." Dragon folded his knees to his chest, crossed his arms over them, and rested his head atop his conjoined arms. "You can run, if you like. Or even scream. But that isn't in your best interests. I'll catch you, no matter where you go. I'd prefer to spare your crew, but it's very hard to stop those with wills like theirs once they've set their sights on something. Right now, I imagine their goal is to rescue you. But that won't happen."

Luke Read grit her teeth so much they should've shattered apart. She squirmed, rolling onto her back and away from his gaze. Dragon got to his feet, not quite finished, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I have a question." He started, and her eyes zeroed in on him. "You don't have to answer. But if you don't mind... Would you tell me your real name?"

She was silent, eyes flickering away from Dragon and focusing at the door. Perhaps she was measuring the distance between the bed and the exit, but he didn't think so. The gears in her head were cranking away at full power, and she seemed to take his request into consideration. She leaned her head back, shutting her eyes and shifting her jaw.

"Antoinette." She answered, and Dragon's eyes widened a bit.

"Hmm..." He relaxed and thought it over. "It's pretty, but a mouthful."

 _"I hate it!"_ She spat, looking him right in the eye, and he thought he saw despair there. "Don't call me that!"

Dragon was taken aback, and she had the grace to wince at her rudeness.

"Please!" She amended, most certainly desperate this time.

He softened, shut his eyes, and tilted his head.

"Alright." He replied, allowing it. "But what should I call you? And don't say Luke. It's too confusing."

"Then call me Ruka!" She decided.

He made a face at that. "You made that up on the spot, didn't you? It even kind of sounds like Luke."

"Get used to it!" She ordered, not giving an inch. "That's what you're calling me."

Dragon shrugged. "Fine, _Ruka_. What about your last name?"

She shrank back, uncharacteristically meek. "N-Not telling!"

"So it isn't 'Read' then." Dragon deduced, and the woman cursed under her breath.

"Read is Bonnie's father's name." She told him, pressing her burning cheek into the blanket. "She shares it with me. It's not made up."

Dragon arched an eyebrow at her, but shook his head a moment later. He turned away to check the watch again and plan out a route on the map.

"Wait!" She yelled, and he turned back to face her. "You didn't tell me your name!"

Dragon blinked, feeling as if he'd lost his footing. He'd failed to give his name to a single one of his previous victims. He'd removed his mask, let them see his face, but he hadn't told them his name. He knew theirs, but they didn't know his.

He noticed his arms shaking and caught himself staring into the distance. He felt Ruka's eyes on him, apparently concerned, and he clenched his fists and looked at her.

"Dragon." He answered, not allowing the shame into his eyes.

Ruka hummed, frowning a bit. "That's kind of an odd name."

Dragon shrugged again. At least _his_ was real. Although, now that he thought about it he remembered that they had been calling him Shiroryuu a lot longer 'Dragon.' That was where Sazu had gotten the "Shiro" nickname from.

His heart chilled at the thought of Sazu, and he pushed the image of the stubbornly kind boy out of his mind.

"Ah, 'ryuu' means 'dragon,' doesn't it?" Ruka realized, her face lighting up with interest. "And 'shiro' means white. So you're... the 'white dragon.' How come?"

"Dunno." He blurted out, frowning when he noticed the words felt like a lie.

"Oh! Maybe it's because of the moon!" Ruka suggested, and Dragon felt his heart drop. "Yeah, yeah. Hey, do you usually attack at night?"

Dragon's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Yes..." He said, trying to make his voice sound indifferent and emotionless like always. "Why?"

"Moonlight is white." Ruka noted, smiling and nodding in excitement. "You're the 'moon dragon.' You come in the night. Into the light. Hey, I still hate you, but that's neat! It's much cooler than 'Lucky Luke.'"

"Enough!" Dragon snapped, losing his self-control. Ruka looked at him, flinching when she saw the not-so-well suppressed guilt and fear there.

Dragon turned away, curling his lips back and trying to relax his breathing. He squeezed frightened eyes shut and squared his shoulders.

 _Shiro, what happened?_

He exhaled, and his expression turned hard and steady. He focused on the window, approaching it and pulling the curtain back. He could see the port from here. The ship he'd ordered to be ready by dawn was nearly prepared, from the looks of the dawdling crew.

He turned back to Ruka, his only thoughts on the "mission" at hand.

"We're leaving soon." He told her, walking back to her. "We'll get you some clothes in town, and set sail in less than half an hour. On your feet."


	7. Chapter 6: Eel Island Pass

**Alright, so I'm not in the best mood. Last night, I watched the final episode of Doctor Who with David Tennet as the doctor. And the episodes leading up to his end were just. So. Depressing. Note to self: do not watch the last five episodes before the doctor's regeneration late into the night and go to bed at 4am. Very bad for the soul.**

 **Now, the new chapter. It took me a while to write this, and I thought about not posting it, just leaving it to sit in the doc manager until it was deleted. Still, I'm hoping the story will grow to be more to people's liking as things become more complicated and twisted. But it's difficult to write a story people aren't interested in, and if not for your favorites and follows and the single solitary review I would believe this was another failed project to go over and note down what I did wrong and try not to do so again. Again, anything but pure, senseless, pointless hate is welcome, so do review if you've got the time. Even if its just a word or two, or pure crit, I will appreciate it.**

 **I edited this chapter so much, so I do hope you like it. I recently read that it isn't wise to post the flashbacks as all italics. Dunno if that's true, and I've seen most other authors on this site post them like that. If you don't like it, tell me. I'll come up with something different.**

 **I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **00000**

Chapter 6: Eel Island Pass and Sea Salt village

 _Thirteen Years Earlier_

 _"You look like a girl."_

 _Netty, recently "reborn" as Luke Read, peered up at the youth sitting beside her at the bar. His words were blunt, plain blunt, and spat from lips smothered in liquor. Three empty bottles sat in front of him, while he gripped the fourth in shaking hands like it was his lifeline. Then again, perhaps it was._

 _His worn, holey suit had faded in color and lost most of the buttons on his jacket. A phedora decorated a head of messy black curls. As N-... As_ Luke _watched him, he sniffed curiously at the bottle, peering inside before tilting his head back for a long swig._

 _Luke blinked up at him in bright interest. The man looked like he was no older than twenty, yet he must have had a fortune stashed in his pockets if he could afford so much drink in this rundown little tavern where everything was overpriced. Not that Luke cared who drank what. Still, his words were_ funny _, now that he thought about it. Luke had spent most of his energy that day making himself look like a proper boy. He slung mud through his san_ _dy brown hair, patted dirt on his face, dressed himself in the filthiest, most raggedy oversized clothes he could find. He'd practiced thinking of himself as a boy by looking in the water and repeated his new name: "You are Luke Read. You are Luke Read."_

 _Now here he was, in Sea Salt Village's cheapeast tavern, in the middle of the night. Alone with a hoard of drunken wretches who were seated around tables and crowding the bar and corners as they sang and chortled half-heartedly in a pitiful attempt to drown their troubles. He'd come here to see if he could fool grown ups into thinking he was a young nine-year-old boy (instead of a girl). No one had paid him any mind when he walked in and climbed on top of the one empty stool. But as soon as he was seated, he heard_ those _words:_ "You look like a girl."

 _"PFFFT! Ahahaha!" Luke chuckled into his hands._

 _"Wha'cha laffin at, laddy?" The geezer on his other side slurred._

 _That didn't help. Luke threw back in his seat, so it swiveled and he nearly lost his balance. Thin-but-fleshy arms wrapped themselves over a flat stomach. Luke's mouth opened wide, becoming the biggest ear-to-ear grin to ever greet such sorry slobs as the ones found in this tavern. His light chuckles turned into boisterous guffaws that captured the attention of the entire bar: the music slowed as the piano man lost focus in the keys, and the great, fat, drooling git in the middle of the room looked up from a puddle of spit. The scumbag whose face was half buried in the chest of a cheap woman popped back out with a disdain glare, and those others who were fully drunk and passed out blinked their eyes open and sat back in their chairs._

 _All was quiet. Luke could feel so many eyes on him. Horrible trembles rocked him down to his bone marrow, but he couldn't tell if it was from the laughter or the fear he felt at being in the lions den._

 _The young man who'd spoken to him now looked down in disgust through narrow, scarlet eyes. Luke's laughter was echoing through the tiny bar, and he knew these imbeciles were all angry drunks with even shorter fuses than the Madames. They were running on alcohol and confusion, which (in their case) amounted to outrage. Perhaps they were questioning Luke's very prescence in their bar:_ _What was a little kid doing sitting at the bar, ruining their wallowing with laughter (laughter of all things!) and the moon high in the sky outside? Who let him in? Had he indulged?_

 _The idea of them asking such questions was comical. But the answer to the last one was no. Never mind that there wasn't any fresh water to be found anywhere except for the waterfall in the mountains on the other side of the island. The sneering bartender, named Toru, was the only sober one besides Luke and he could not have appeared more displeased by the child's prescence._

 _Luke just kept laughing, unable to contain it all. He had to get ahold of himself, or else his gut would burst. That, or he'd choke since he was unable to breath. He lurched over, gripping the counter and stuffing his fist in his mouth. Strangled chuckles escaped him as tears welled up in the corner of his eyes._

 _"What are you doing here, you freaky brat?" Toru asked, irritated._

 _Luke almost swallowed his fist._

 _"Knock it off, you noisy kid!" A man ordered, banging his fist on the table._

 _"HA!" Luke choked out, freeing his fist._

 _"I've had enough!" Toru declared, slamming a clean mug down on Luke's head._

 _Shapes danced out of their borders, and everything turned dim and unclear. Luke hit the floor like a rock. That bar glass to the skull had given him tunnel vision and left his body both numb and heavy. Still, he could feel he was lying on his side with his arms and legs laying one atop the other. But all he could see were feet and furniture legs._

 _"Argh, what the Hell?" An old man at the bar ran his fingers through his hair. "Someone shut him up!"_

 _"Wats ee laffin abo'wt anyway?!"_

 _"Annoying sprat!" The fat man with the girl shouted. "Scram or we'll kill you!"_

 _A bottle shattered right in his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut just before his lip was cut open and rum splashed into his mouth. More bottles were thrown, hitting the ground and exploding like glass bombs. He laughed weakly as he curled into a ball, shielding his eyes from the shards and drink. Soon they were throwing leftovers too, and Luke felt pickles snag in his hair. Slabs of meat slapped against his cheek._

 _He spread his fingers, peeking through them just in time to see a full dinner plate hit the floor. It span about, spilling only a little sauce without dropping any of the food and came to a neat stop directly in front of Luke._

 _His eyes flashed. Hungry hands shot out, claiming his prize and yanking it back to safety before the bartenders boot heel could break his hand._

 _Fierce black eyes and gritted teeth whipped up to meet the Bartender's furious expression. He'd discovered his game, and was planning on making Luke pay for it in splintered bones and some heavy bruising._

 _But Luke was quick. He jumped to his feet, missing a bullet in the process and made for the nearest exit: a splintered hole in the wall barely large enough for someone his size. He heard three more gun shots, as well as the squeak of chair legs over weak tiles. He dodged more bottles and hopped over long legs, but felt one of the bullets graze his ear._

 _He leapt through the small opening, landing with a tumble and a stumble outside in the dirt. A bullet barely missed his head, and gravel exploded at his side. He crawled out of the moonlight and into the shadows. He slipped around in the sand as he struggled to get to his feet. Once he did, he held the plate at arms length and ran for it just as Toru threw the bar door open and took aim._

 _Small feet kicked up a storm of dust as he raced past broken down homes and merchant shops. The only places with any power were those in the red light district, where business was booming as usual. Luke was several blocks away, yet the sounds of music and laughter were too clear._

 _Where he was, the streets were deserted save for the nameless thugs who were huddled around campfires. He passed a few groups like that as bullets forced sand into the air behind him._

 _He rolled to a stop and kicked off the ground into an alleyway. They would be upon him any minute, or so they thought._

 _Luke grinned like a cat as he reached the end of the alley, where a pile of too-old garbage cans resided in a corner. He kicked them aside, revealing a flat wooden board leaning against the wall. He slid it out of the way and stepped into the moldy basement of an old, abandoned building. He grabbed a rope which was looped through the trashcan handles and yanked them back into place, hiding the board before he carefully slid it back into place._

 _No sooner was his little hidey hole hidden did he rush away from it, crawling across the dusty basement, past the destroyed stairs and the endless amount of crates full of rotten fruit. He reached the wide, dark hole opening into a tunnel, one which had been dug long before he was born and which he'd been lucky to discover._

 _He whipped his head around, hearing muffled, incoherent shouts just outside. Fear filled him as gun fire popped holes in the trashcans. If not for the plate in his hands, he would have scraped dirt into his hands._

 _His heart raced, not daring to breath as he waited for them to discover him. If that happened, he would have to lead them away._

 _But as he waited, the shouts and firing stopped, turning to barely audible murmurs of outrage. Footsteps. He could hear footsteps!_

 _Sweat trailed down his face. He kept the cautious hope in check and sat there for maybe ten minutes, just waiting. When at last it became clear that he was safe, he curled his lips back to keep the cheers of victory from erupting out of him._

 _With the plate held high above his head, he jumped._

 _It was a bumpy ride down the rigid tunnel. He slid over pointed rocks and through deep holes, and had to swerve to avoid getting his ankle caught in the grip of a thick root. When at last he saw the light of the oil lamps at the end, he chuckled, and exited into the underground cavern that was there hideout and home on his back, gleeful and bubbly._

 _Gravel filled the cavern floor, and drawings looked down on him from every inch of the wall. The old place was lit up by some oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. There was no fire, as they couldn't risk filling the place with smoke. So it was cold, but they dealt with it._

 _Luke laughed light-heartedly and sat bolt upright, plate held high in the sky. His eyes landed on his sister, Bonnie, a year younger than him dressed in a black raggedy dress, with bright pink hair going down to her shoulders. She sat munching hungrily away at the last of their rations, all of which were beyond moldy._

 _That just made him grin more, and he scrambled over in a rush, eager to show her the plate of fully done, fresh food._

 _"Look, Bonnie!" He shouted, overjoyed. "I got real food! It's warm too!"_

 _Bonnie froze, disbelieving. Her head slowly turned, gleaming eyes zeroing in on the plate. Astonishment flooded her face and lit up her eyes. Without warning, she spat the rotten food back out and reached for the plate. Luke pulled back, holding it up out of reach with a look of warning on his face._

 _"I'll share it with you!" He said, leaving no room for argument. "Do you understand? We're_ sharing. _I have to eat too!"_

 _Bonnie blew her cheeks up and pouted, forcing a chuckle from Luke. He looked at the plate, which held two slices of chicken drenched in some kind of sauce, three rolls, and a big pile of beans. He drooled at the sight of it. It was nice that those in the tavern were such big eaters._

 _He set the plate between them and revealed the two forks he'd snagged. Bonnie frowned blankly at them, as she had lived most of her life treating whatever she got her hands on as finger food. Not that that was her fault._

 _Still, she took a fork, and Luke showed her how to use it by taking the first bite of the chicken. It was a little salty, but fully done and moist._

 _Bonnie copied him, and jerked her head up in delight. Luke laughed._

 _"It's good, right?" He asked, petting her hair and bringing their foreheads together. "Sorry I couldn't get more. Try eating it slowly, you'll actually taste it."_

 _"Thanks, Netty nee-san!" Bonnie piped._

 _Luke jerked back, frown turning upright into a nervous smile. He waved both hands in front of him so as to say "stop that."_

 _"No, Bonnie, it's not Netty anymore!" He corrected with a heavy heart. "From now on, I'm your_ Aniki. _Luke Read, your_ Aniki!"

 _"But why?" She asked, tilting her head._

 _"It's too dangerous for girls in this Sea Salt Village." Luke explained, seeing flashes of those indecent women. "So I'm going to pretend I'm a boy from now on. But, I don't want you to lie to yourself Bonnie, so you stay a girl. I'll keep you safe, promise."_

 **00000**

 _Present Day_

"Put me down!" Ordered an incessant ringing voice in Dragon's ear.

He stared on, highly annoyed but hardly showing it. He tightened his arm around her waist, as she bopped the tips of her toes against his back and smacked her restrained hands against his chest. As he checked his compass he half-wished they were in the Grand Line so he could have "lost" her in some horrible storm at sea.

But no, they had to be in the West Blue, on Eel Island Pass. This uninhabited island was mostly flat, but riddled with small hills, tunnels, and caverns. It held perhaps the most ordinary, safest forest in existence, one that was home only to small, friendly animals like rabbits and wild transponder snails.

The only frightening factor of this island were the ones it was sandwiched between: multiple whirlpools that blocked off both sides. They weren't too big, but all the same it would be suicide to risk sailing by them and getting sucked in. So instead, Dragon had had the crew of fishermen drop them off at one end of the island. He already knew that two days from now a Marine ship would drop anchor at the tail end of the island, and the crew would come ashore to collect a few wild transponder snails.

Two days and three hours had passed since he'd successfully captured Luke Read, apparent real name "Antoinette," preferred title "Ruka." True to his word, he'd gotten her some real clothes ( a long blue skirt and brown vest that didn't cover her stomach) so she resembled a woman a bit more. There was the matter of her hair, which was a dead give away as wanted posters only used head shots. So he was forcing her to cover it with a small blue cap.

Dragon shut the compass with a click and shoved it in his pocket just as Ruka knocked her skull into his. Reeling and stumbling back in pain, he peered out at her haughtily through one eye while the other remained shut tight. Pesky pirate girl. All she'd done since he'd gotten her off that bed back at the inn was kick, smack, pull hair, and bite.

"I said put me down, you big jerk-face!" She yelled, getting in his face .

"Do you promise to walk nicely?" He asked, doubtful.

"Hell no!"

"Then no."

She headbutted him. Spots danced in his eyes, and he wondered what her head was made of while his teeth ground in annoyance.

He returned her headbutt with one of his own, leaving a red spot on her forehead. She groaned from the pain, dropping her head so she could rub the sore area with her fisted hands.

"Owww..." She moaned, shooting him another one of her fiery looks. "I hate you!"

"And?" He asked, arching an eyebrow. Why should he care?

He started walking again, shifting her weight on his shoulder. This place really was flat. He could almost see the ocean on the other side of the island and they'd hardly walked at all since they were dropped off hours ago.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, eliciting a questioning frown from Dragon.

"I hate repeating myself." He said, blinking casually. "I already told you: it's my job to deliver you to the Gorosei."

"Yeah, but why?" She asked, sounding both irritated and genuinely curious. "I'm just another pirate to them, right?"

"Apparently not." He replied curtly. Why was he answering her? Then again, if it stopped her from struggling...

"Oh, _wait."_ She said, her tone condescending. "You don't know either, do you? You're carrying me to my death and you don't even know why. But why wouldn't they tell _you?_ I thought you CP0 guys know _everything."_

"We don't." He said, feeling a little defensive. "We act on orders from the Celestial Dragons. We only know what is relevant to our respective assignments, and we don't share that limited information with anyone. Including our fellow operatives."

He stopped in his tracks. Now, how was that true? How could Ruka's real gender and the reason for her being placed on the Gorosei's hit list be irrelevant to Dragon's current assignment? Those daft old fools... They'd already known that Luke Read was really a woman and sent Dragon to kill her without sharing that information. That could only mean they wanted her to die without Dragon, or anyone, realizing the truth. But they'd changed their minds, even though they never, ever, ever changed their minds. Suddenly, they wanted her to come to Mariejois. They wanted to face her.

Dragon knit his brow. The ax had fallen somewhere.

He felt her eyes on him and looked down to see her staring, vaguely fascinated.

"What?" He demanded

"You were making a scary face." She informed him. "What has you so mad, _Shiroryuu?"_

She spat out his alias like it tasted of poison. He looked at her blankly, taking a mental note to be more careful of keeping his face void of any real emotion while they were travelling together. No, he needed to be even more careful than that. She and her sister had dealt him injuries, both of which were untreated and nowhere near healed.

"Why are you doing whatever they want?!" She asked, squirming again. Dragon ignored her and started walking. "Why'd you join CP0, why are you trying to kill me? Hey, answer me, Dragon!"

He felt his legs weaken dramatically, and his hand shot out to clutch the trunk of the nearest tree. His fingers dug into the bark, and cracks cut through, splitting the wood. Ruka stared at him, utterly floored by his actions.

She pursed her lips.

"Do you even have a reason?" She asked, frightened. "Or are you just killing for the thrill of it?!"

Dragon felt his very heart seethe with anger, but clamped his jaw shut and pushed away from the tree.

"But that doesn't explain why you joined in the first place." Ruka continued, gritting her mouth in frustration before opening it wide to shout at him. "The Celestial Dragons are evil! Why would anyone want to do their dirty work?! Hey, say something!"

Dragon started to walk again, trying to focus on the sound of twigs and leaves snapping beneath his shoes. It hardly helped, as her noisy chatter was louder than anything else.

"You do whatever they tell you!" She accused, stating the obvious and causing Dragon to walk faster. "Do you care about anyone? What about family? You must have someone, somewhere, right? They'd be devastated if they could see you now!"

Dragon groaned in aggravation, twisting his hand around to grab the collar of her vest. He swung her off his shoulder and held her up in front of him. She held onto his wrist by her fingertips, eyes flashing as she struggled to keep her nose above his knuckles.

"You're eyes are cold, as usual!" She stated defiantly. "This job of yours sucks, even you think so!"

"You're a nuisance." He told her, tightening his grasp. "Why are you trying so hard to socialize with the one who will ultimately bring about your end? Why did you dress like a man, hide your real name, and lie to your crew? And why are you intent on being a thorn in my side until the bitter end?"

There, now how did _she_ like it? All the hard questions whose answers weren't to be shared with strangers or enemies, and were too complicated to explain anyway.

"I've got something to protect!" She declared, rocking him to his core so that his fingers loosened their grip on her shirt. "I've got a crew and a sister I'd lay down my life for! I'll even take on a new identity as something _I could never be!_ What about you, huh? WHAT ARE YOU PROTECTING?! ABSOLUTE JUSTICE?! To what end?!"

Wide eyes shook, but he blinked and set them right. So irritating. Why did he have to be stuck with someone like this, whose every word rang true and brought back bad memories? He didn't want to remember any part of his rotten childhood, especially Sazu.

"I don't have anything to protect." He admitted sadly, feeling Ruka wince. "This is the only reality I've ever known. Besides... I was raised with the belief that peace was worth any sacrifice."

That was right. They drilled that into him, day after day after day. There was never any escaping that place or that organization. He'd known that, even when he was trying to run. Those Celestial Dragons owned the whole world over. They'd claimed Dragon when he was just an orphan wandering around some wrecked island as the only survivor of some freak tragedy. That was all he'd been told, the one and only time he bothered to ask. And the price for his curiosity was five days without dinner. He never asked again.

"What peace?" Ruka asked, gripping his wrist as she continued to shout out in despair. "It's all a lie! They're lying to you! They lie to everyone, without any hesitation! AND NO ONE EVER NOTICES!"

Dragon almost nodded. Yes, that was true. The peace was a hoax, sitting precariously atop the ever growing pyramid of secrets and sacrificial lambs. But such a pyramid was guarded by the navy and the World Government, and secured by the belief the masses held in their hearts that those who bore "Justice" on their backs were unyielding and righteous. The number of those who'd been forsaken and betrayed by the World Government was unbearably high. Those fools in the World Government, especially the Gorosei, viewed that number as just that: a number. It wasn't anything more to them. But Dragon couldn't look away, or ignore it, or turn his heart to stone when he thought of it.

It was so much more than just a number. Each victim's name weighed his heart down to the point that his chest now housed a dark, cold void. Their faces would flash through his mind, and he would see their eyes: terrified and murderous. They all screamed out: _"It should have been you!"_ He couldn't argue with them, because it felt like the truth. Those people he killed, some of them had been good. Good, kind people who were loved and needed were worth more than a worthless person who was not. And some of them had had parents who outlived them. Because everyone was someone's daughter or son.

But not Dragon. He was nobody's child, unless you counted the former/deceased CP0 operatives that raised him.

His hands shook as Sazu came to mind. Perhaps the only friend he'd ever had was now a cold-hearted and serious Marine, just like his father before him. The words "absolute justice" carved into every fiber of his being, forever erasing the boy Dragon had thought he knew so well.

"Maybe." Dragon lied, in response to her belief of the false peace. "Who knows?"

Ruka grit her teeth and pulled her head up over his fist. He met her fiery gaze once more.

"I'll escape." She vowed, resolute. "I swear it on my life! I'll escape you and make it back to my crew!"

 **00000**

 **Poor Dragon, poor Ruka :'(.**

 **Again, this chapter was difficult to write. But I think it's finally done. Please enjoy! There aren't enough fanfics about Dragon's past, so I would like to keep going until the end. So review, people! Review, review, review. I can't get enough of them.**

 **Next chapter will be a bit of a turning point in the story. As for what happens, I'll give you this clue: Dragon has many enemies.**

 **Until next time!**


	8. Chapter 7: the moon, rain, and lightning

**Alright, I'm not to happy with this chapter. Not enough... Flare, I don't think. But I edited and edited, and I threw in a little more insight to Dragon's past. So hopefully it passes! I would've skipped it, if possible, as I'd like to keep this story from being too long. Sadly, it had to be done. If it's any consolation, this sets the stage for the next chapter, which is a major turning point. Or perhaps that's an exaggeration. At the least, the next chapter holds some serious and vital character development and bonding time. It's already written, I just need to edit.**

 **Now then I have some words of wisdom: Do not copy Dragon! He is special. A normal person would die. Now do enjoy! Please, please review.**

 **Oh yes, almost forgot. Devin Dracul: I would've PMed you, but your username isn't hyperlinked, so it's a little hard. The picture is not my work, but it is someone's original drawing I imagine. That is, it's not from any anime (that I know of). Also, thank you. I hope to improve my writing and earn more reviews. That is the plan, anyway.**

 **00000**

Chapter 7: Moon, Rain, and Lightning

 ** _Same Day, That Evening_**

Impressive, the feats water could accomplish. Wearing away islands and mountains and capable of killing the most powerful devil fruit users while humans really had to work at it. _Although_ , most impressive was how it was currently gushing from the sky like some massive waterfall. One which was apparently bent on sweeping Dragon and Ruka out to sea.

It was nighttime now, with the storm having gone on for a few hours. Ruka had it a little easier, lying over his shoulder with her face buried in his chest. Dragon had to march up and over slippery mud hills. It couldn't be helped, as heavy rain created excess mud. So walking straight was a chore, and to make it worse he couldn't see his hand in front of his face.

With no other options he was relying on haki and intuition. Eyes shut and worn down by heavy clothes, each footstep was harder than the last. Not pleasant, but they were managing. Still, if he didn't find shelter soon the haki he was depending on _would_ run out and they'd be stranded.

The sole of his shoe slipped and he was sent falling downwards, through low branches, into a tree trunk. By bracing himself against it, he found he had some balance even with his boots stuck at different angles. Ignoring the slight pain in his shoulder, he chose to focus on the thick, durable branches of said tree which thankfully provided some relief from the downpour.

Both Ruka and Dragon panted, experiencing mutual exasperation and exhaustion. They shared a look of common understanding then quickly looked away.

"We'll rest here for a moment." Dragon decided, and Ruka nodded gratefully.

 _Only_ a moment, and not a minute longer. Now that he could see the storm with a little more perspective, he could tell just how serious it was.

The trees were butchered, split with their thickest limbs broken, or uprooted completely and lying in the mud. Mud was travelling over the ground like dirty water and increasing in level every second. Whatever creatures lived here were, thankfully, nowhere to be seen. The rain streamed from the outer leaves of Dragon's tree like a curtain. He reached through, and felt his fingers be bombarded by what felt like golf-ball sized hail. There wasn't any, but nonetheless.

He pulled his hand back and slumped against the bark. It was bad, way out of control, and going out in it was near-suicide. Would be suicide, if it were someone else. But the longer he stood here, the worse it got. He _did_ hope he found a cave or tunnel soon, one that wasn't flooded, collapsed, or otherwise. Maybe they should hide in one of the trees. It wouldn't be wise in this wind, but perhaps it was their only option. He leaned his head back, taking a look at the tangled, knotted growth of the thick branches and immediately knew he couldn't hop up from here. Not unless he cut or broke the tree limbs, which would cost him precious strength.

He shut his eyes and a droplet hit his forehead, trailing down his nose bridge. He liked stormy weather but he really didn't need it right now. These heavy raindrops were hazardous, not to mention depressing.

"The moon."

Ruka's voice felt like a ripple in the water, intriguing him. His eyes whisked open, darting down to find her staring up at an opening in the clouds. A silver wisp wavered in her eyes, reflecting the moon's image as it was distorted by the water.

"What?" Dragon breathed.

"It's the moon." Ruka sighed in awe and fascination.

Dragon blinked uncertainly at her, gave the satellite a quick glance, and looked back down at Ruka.

"What about it?" He asked.

"Nothing." She said directly as her eyes zigzagged up the curtain and she lifted her head. "I just like it is all."

He frowned blankly at that, turning his attention to the moon. There it was, peeking out at them. It glowed, silver and large and constant in the face of ever-changing times and people.

Seeing it now, he felt an odd sense of deja vu. Then he remembered: he had done this before. Too many times, when he was a boy feeling confused, possessed, and alone, he would sneak out and climb to the roof of the Mariejois palace. He'd stay there for hours, gazing up at the moon and the stars and wondering about so many things he forgot what most of them were.

But eventually this habit faded, and the memories sort of... Slipped away.

"I wonder how long it's been there?" Ruka pondered aloud, clearly referring back to the moon.

"Four-point-fifty-three billion years." Dragon blurted out, regretting the words immediately. Why did he tell her that? Wait, no, it didn't really matter, did it?

"Whoa, really?!" Ruka exclaimed, gaping while stars danced in her eyes. "Man, that's old. I wonder if I'll live that long!"

Dragon grimaced, "Impossible."

"Why, how old are you?" Ruka asked, nodding up at him before returning her attention to the sky.

Dragon knit his brow in concentration as he thought back to a time he'd nearly forgotten. He'd been a little boy in some sort of... Lab, and he was going through some tests. Excruciatingly painful ones, at that, honestly he might have preferred to carve his bronchial tubes out with a spoon rather than endure it again. But anyway, he'd been in a lab, and he'd looked at a monitor which plainly stated he was five-years-old at the time. That was twenty-two years ago, so...

"I'm twenty-seven." He reasoned out, seeing the look of mild surprise on Ruka's face. "What?"

"You look older than you actually are." She stated bluntly. "Not too much older, but three years at least."

It escaped Dragon how he could look three yeas older, but he didn't really care. In fact, he was feeling a bit spiteful, and couldn't help the next sentence that escaped him.

"What age are you, then?"

"Twenty-two!" She sang out, beaming grin contrasting with Dragon's usual empty expression. "But we're just kids compared to the moon."

Dragon rolled his eyes at her. What _was_ this conversation? It was ridiculous and seemed to appear from nowhere. Comparing humans to a rock in the sky? Stupid.

He found that Ruka was still grinning at him cheerfully, and was taken aback. She caught herself, stared at him in stunned silence, then whipped her head away. Dragon lifted one boot out of the mud before reluctantly stepping back into it. Their "break time" was about up, he'd need to head back into the fray soon. But his haki was close to nil. If he used anymore, he'd be reduced to a wobbling wreck. Then they'd be trapped. Sighing through his nose, he looked through the water curtain for something, anything that could help him.

He felt a familiar jolt, and something caught his eye. Suddenly he was acutely aware of the gravity of his situation, and Ruka's weight on his shoulder was not helping things.

Very slowly, he slid her off. She looked at him questioningly, even more so when he unlocked her seastone handcuffs and pushed her behind him. He felt her struggle to stay out of the mud while her mind reeled from his current actions.

"Hey, are you letting me go after all?" She asked, hopeful and almost-trusting.

"Ruka, I need you to be very, very quiet right now." Dragon requested delicately as his eyes zipped and flickered over their blurry surroundings. There were so _many_ and they were so fast.

"How come?" She piped up as he pressed his back to her, attempting to keep her out of sight. There was so much rain, and it was dark. If she would just stay quiet then maybe they wouldn't notice her.

So fast. Like wild predators, they were closing in—

"Too late." He said grimly, his heart racing. His eyes shut for a moment, then flicked open to the sight of at least two dozen dark figures in cloaks.

The first line stood only a short distance away, just beyond their tree, with their heads bowed. Their over-sized hoods and the night hid their faces, but Dragon got the feeling they were looking down on them.

Ruka's hands slid up his back to grip his shoulders. He felt her brace her feet against the tree and attempt to look over him but Dragon skillfully reached around to squeeze her hand ever so lightly. It was just a warning, so she would understand. He hoped she understood.

Dragon looked them over, with his eyes scanning left, then right. His teeth were on edge, but he loosened his jaw and attempted to meet the not-so-visible eyes of the nearest phantom.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, point-blank.

"We are here for the head of 'Luke Read.'" They spoke unanimously, in empty, robotic voices which would have sent chills down the backs of other men. "Surrender him immediately."

"Unacceptable." Dragon replied, feeling Ruka gaze over his shoulder. "Leave now, on order from the highest authority in the world."

"Comply without question." They ordered, still and unwavering.

"I am CP0 operative Shiroryuu," Dragon informed them impatiently, expecting them to run in fear like all the rest, "Leave immediately or you will lose your lives."

"Comply without question." They repeated, moving their left hands away from their sides. Static sparked in their palms, with miniature bolts of lightning exploding into their firm grasp like wakizashis. Dragon blinked in disbelief, taking a mental note of it before returning to the task at hand.

He leaned his head back, and whispered to Ruka carefully: "Stay behind me. Do not move from that spot."

"Who are they?" She whispered back, sounding intrigued and wonder-struck. "They're holding lightning! So cool..."

"No, they're _not."_ Dragon hissed. "They're hostile. Now don't move."

He faced them, while reaching around to retrieve the knife strapped to his back. Lightning flashed in the skies above along with booming thunder. The earth shook, and Dragon leapt forward.

 **00000**

Ruka watched silently as Dragon sliced through them one after the other. When they were cut, their forms would become unstable and they'd explode into ash,smoke, or dust. At first, it worked, and the shadows or whatever they were just dissipated, leaving Ruka under the impression they were very weak.

But then they learned to adapt. Dragon's knife clashed with one of their knives. Ruka gasped when the impact seemed to make him tremble. He seemed to steel his nerves, as he grit his teeth and jerked away. Ruka was left at a loss until she saw that his gloved hand, knife and all, was smoking like a chimney. She inhaled sharply, imagining the pain and wondered how he could've withstood that when he was soaked to the bone.

They surrounded him, and he stood at the ready with the knife raised in front of his face. Ruka saw his eyes, and she felt as if someone was crushing her heart in their grasp. His eyes, and that knife... He was the perfect picture of a professional killer. It was like their first meeting, all over again.

Right... He was her enemy. She didn't care what happened to him! He just... showed up, tried to kill her, blew her biggest secret, and now he... He... Was outnumbered. He was exerting himself, slicing right through the lightning blades. It appeared to be working, as they returned to smoke once their weapons were destroyed. But the cost was being electrocuted, repeatedly. Already, he was out of breath, with his entire body steaming and both arms trembling. Eyes wild and desperate, like a cornered animal. Ruka leaned against the tree, spreading her fingers over the bark.

He... sort of looked like she had. Years ago. When she was alone, and scared. But that was different, way different!

Dragon lashed out, and another current rushed through him. He half-screamed and his knees gave out, but he caught himself before he could hit the ground. The shadows surrounded him, hovering over the air like ghosts, and blocking him from her sight.

Ruka grit her teeth, and found herself mentally urging him to get up. She curled her lips back and glanced to the open, but muddy, path behind the tree. Then she looked at the scene before her.

He was surrounded, outnumbered, injured, alone, and in a lot of trouble. But he couldn't really be having such a hard time! He was Shiroryuu! And even if he wasn't alright, he'd survive.

 _No_ , she thought, _no he has to die._ He had to, so she could escape and live free with her crew. Even if she was on the Gorosei's hit list, there were ways around that. She could fake her death, take on another new identity, keep running...

Running. She'd ran like a coward all her life. She ran from her lineage, from her past, from her home town. She ran from all the people trying to kill her. Would she run again?

 _Now you run for them,_ she told herself. Pictures of her crew, captain, and sister flashed before her eyes. They needed her. Even if this was a fight, it wasn't hers. She wouldn't die! Not for _him_ of all people!

Running was for cowards. She would leave him to die, alone, in the middle of storm. No one would see him or hear him. These shadowy things would be the last thing he saw. And then his heart would stop, and his world would go dark...

No. She thought as she stepped back, sneaking around the tree. Her fingers clawed at the bark, and she stared painfully at the small openings in the crowd of shadows, where she could faintly see Dragon cutting through them with the merciless ripping speed of a tornado.

No, she told herself. Not for _him._ He's the enemy!

Something stabbed at her heart, and she gripped her shirt as she walked back through the mud. She hesitated, keeping him in her sight for a moment longer. She saw the shadows jump at him. Deciding she'd seen enough, she walked slowly around the tree and took off.

 **00000**

 **So that's all for now. Hope it was satisfactory. Next chapter is a favorite of mine, which is why I rushed to get it typed up. As a result, it's rush and in need of a little love. Thanks for reading and/or following/favoriting/ reviewing. Ah, I love your reviews. Give me your thoughts! They matter, I promise.**


	9. Chapter 8: Ruka and Dragon

**Alright so chapter 8 at last. A turning point, as promised. This chapter is entirely narrated by Ruka (just go ahead and call her that, I promise I won't change her name/gender again). You might hate me and love me for this chapter. There is bonding, real understanding, but no actual romance. Too soon for that, given how they first met. Anyway, read on! Don't be shy! Read and review!**

Chapter 8: Ruka and Dragon

 _Run, just keep running._

It was an old thought, worn and repeated. Ruka used hold it in her heart, alongside fear. Both thought and instinct came from her desire to protect the one person she truly loved: Bonnie. That was a responsibility she'd taken on of her own free will, and she wasn't about to stop now!

Strong legs carried her through heavy rain and ankle deep mud at speeds that would've made a cheetah's jaw drop. She sprinted past broken trees, through groaning winds, all while blind. Bare feet were poked and stabbed by sharp rocks and wood chips. Knees and elbows rammed into tree trunks. Her cheeks were scraped raw by low-hanging branches. On and on she ran, propelled by fear and adrenaline, and powered by the excess energy she had stored away after being carried so far.

She grit her teeth at that thought, and Dragon's indifferent, emotionless expression came to mind. He'd only carried her because she was hand-cuffed, it wasn't as if he were being chivalrous! If he had, he might have handled her a lot more delicately, and then she would've given him a good whack! Not that it mattered anymore. She was leaving him behind, and she was never going to see him again! If he died it was his own bad luck! And really, he'd be getting his just desserts. He'd tortured people to death, now he could have a taste of his own medicine! Electrocuted while half-drowning in rain sounded like just the right amount of pain for a murderous, mindless, government dog.

She jumped to a hill, cruising down it on the balls of her feet before dancing away in great leaps. After failing to wipe some of the water out of her eyes with the back of her forearm, Ruka started to slip around in the mud uncontrollably. She managed to stay her fall by catching a branch, almost dislocating her shoulders in the process.

Her toes wormed their way through mud, trying to find something to help balance her. Gasping breaths escaped her as more images flashed through her mind: Dragon's stunned expression when he discovered her secret, Bonnie knocking him out with that shovel, Ruka slicing his eyebrow open, and again Dragon carrying her through the rain.

It didn't matter! His injuries were... None of her concern! In fact, all the better that he was injured, and worn down, otherwise those monsters wouldn't have been able to touch him!

 _We have come for the head of Luke Read._

 _Unacceptable_ , Dragon had said. Unacceptable, as if he hadn't tried to do the same. Like Luke Read was a real person. Like his death meant anything.

 _He's as real as the rest of you,_ she told herself. A lie became truth if enough people believed it. And she was alive. She was _also_ leaving. Him. To die... Alone...

She hated him! It wasn't as if her hands were pure, so she didn't have much room to judge. But attacking strangers, in the middle of the night, just because someone told you to? That was... Even so, running from a fight wasn't her style. Sacrificing others for her own self-preservation... If she had seen this happening to other people, she'd be livid! But it didn't matter. It just couldn't.

She gripped the branch and slid her feet through the mud until they were beneath her chin. Again, she started running, and it should've been harder with so much rain. She gave herself props and grinned, all the while trying to ignore the obvious fact that she'd used him as bait.

He didn't matter! CP0 operatives were brutal, black-hearted murderers. They weren't deserving of anyone's kindness! They—!

 _This is the only reality I've ever known._

Ruka attempted to breathe deeply, and blinked more rain from her eyes. She repeated the action, again and again, wiping some of the water away with her palms until she sniffled and realized it wasn't just rain streaming down her face.

She choked back a sob, forcing it back down and groaned in aggravation. She dare not scream, not when those things were after her, but she really wanted to. She had a good idea of what those words meant, and they made her heart ache, and that was unacceptable! She didn't want to feel sympathy for one of the World Government's assassins.

 _This is the only reality I've ever known._

 _Stop it!_ She mentally ordered. She didn't want to hear that. Those words described the majority of her life perfectly: a nightmare you could not wake up from. A violent fate you were born into and couldn't escape. The jeers and sneers of worthless thugs everywhere you looked. Violent, savage beatings and cold words thrown your way until you just stopped functioning normally and were forced to adapt or die.

But all of that didn't apply to Dragon! That was how _Ruka_ felt! He didn't feel anything! He was just—

 _They're hostile. Stay behind me._

She curled her lips back and tried to force the overflowing tears to stop. No... Just no! Why did she have to feel anything for him? She hated him! So why did his face keep flashing before her eyes? Why did every part of her burn in protest to this escape attempt? Why did she want so badly to turn around, run back to him, and pull him away to safety? That didn't make any sense!

 _I don't want to help him,_ she lied silently with her lips curled back to keep the sobs inside.

She slipped, falling on her back and getting stuck in the mud cascading downhill. Drained and confused, Ruka could no longer stop the tears. She shut her eyes and crossed her forearms over them. Retching sobs hissed through gritted teeth.

He was evil, so why? He showed up out of nowhere and ruined everything!

She pressed her lips together, and her jaw relaxed. A familiar warmth filled her heart, and this time she saw her sister. Beautiful, warm, no-shame Bonnie.

 _I don't have anything to protect._

Was the opposite true as well?

She rolled over and pushed herself to her knees. Once she was there, she moved and clawed her way back to the top of the hill. She must have looked pretty frightening, all hot under the collar and covered in mud.

She stood at the top of the hill, glaring into the distance. In a fit of rage, she started to run back the way she came. Only once, she promised. Just this one time! She would save him, and she wouldn't be happy about it! As soon as she got the chance, she'd escape properly—

Four feet away, something crashed down in the mud and sent a wave of rain into the air. Ruka pushed her weight to her feet and ducked her head, crossing her arms above her. Brown water washed over her, getting in her nose and pushing her back. She coughed and sneezed, stiffening at the the sound of lightning. Whipping her head up, she found one of the shadows standing there, bolt of fatal electricity in his hand. Not four feet away from her, a dark shadow dropped out of the sky. Even before she looked, her blood ran cold as she knew it was one of them.

It tilted it's head at her, and she shuddered.

Too late... She'd made her decision to turn back, but it was too late. Maybe together, they stood a chance. But she'd split them up and now they got to pick them off one at a time.

She looked around for something to fight with, but there was nothing. Everything was soaked in rain. The shadow was advancing. She glared, frightened as she stood her ground and mentally prepared herself to go down fighting.

That... Looked like real lightning in his hand. Maybe Dragon was special, but there was no way she would survive a hit from that. To her horror, the shadow raised his hand and she stared up at the instrument of her death. The end was coming sooner and through a different means than she'd expected, but nonetheless.

Her crew, captain, and sister... No! She couldn't die here!

"Stop!" She pleaded, throwing one hand up.

Lightning fell, and she was sure it was the end. But to her shock the bright, concentrated charge as well as the shadow behind it exploded into a puff of smoke. Unable to believe her life had been endangered and then saved all in the matter of three minutes, Ruka held her breath as her eyes trailed down. There, right where the shadow had been before, was Dragon.

He was clutching that knife in the hand of an outstretched arm, and she knew he had cut through the shadow. He was still emitting steam, with static crackling over his chest and arms.

Ruka stared at him in a mixture of gratitude and fear. He stared back, annoyed by the pain and exhausted. There weren't any more shadows coming after them...

Ruka blinked as Dragon continued to gasp breathlessly. His head lifted, pointed frown directed her way.

"I thought I told you—" He broke off abruptly as a particularly strong burst of electricity danced in and out of his entire body. He retched, gasping from the pain, and struggled to take control. Weary, hard eyes, looked up at her. "—To stay put."

Ruka wanted to defend herself, but pressing her lips together and not crying were all she could manage.

Another strong burst of electricity overwhelmed Dragon, and he jerked forward, dropping the knife. Ruka gasped and rushed forward, catching him and the blade. He slumped over her, much taller than the one supporting him and all muscle. She struggled to keep him from crushing her.

Ruka held him up anyway, arms reaching around to grip the back of his cloak. She grit her teeth as she strained under the sheer weight of him, and passed him a look of concern in spite of herself.

"Hey!" She yelled over the wind and rain. "Can you hear me?"

Dragon muttered something incoherent, and she tilted her head.

"Huh? What did you say?" She asked.

He gulped to clear his throat, and grimly commanded: "Get... Back..."

For a moment, she didn't understand what he meant. But then she felt the bewildering jolt of the electricity and she screamed.

It passed in the blink of an eye, but left Ruka feeling numb and dizzy. She was fairly sure she'd blacked out there for a sec, but that wouldn't do. They had to find shelter. She was fairly sure she'd passed a cave on her way here, but she'd been in such a rush to leave she hadn't spared it a second thought.

Ignoring another, lighter jolt, Ruka pulled Dragon's arm over her shoulders and managed to push them both to their feet, fetching the knife out of the mud. With much difficulty, a lot of grunting, and pure stubbornness, she managed to half-carry, half-walk Dragon through that storm to the cave they were in need of. She probably should've set him down gently, but as soon as they were out of the rain her arms and legs finally gave out and the pair hit the ground face first.

Ruka shuddered in her freezing, soaked clothes. She rolled out from under Dragon's arm, hugging herself and folding her legs to her chest. She cherished the warmth of her own breath and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the familiar rush of relief that came from just being alive. She'd made it. She survived those creatures, found this cave, and could feel her heart racing in her chest. She laughed weakly and rubbed her cheek into the rough, dry soil.

"I'm alive." She sighed, smiling warmly.

Dragon groaned, and her ears perked up. Groggy, watery eyes flickered open to the sight of him lying on his side, neck craned over his shoulder and face mostly concealed by his hood. He was a lot worse than her: all twitchy and jerking and plagued by static while lying in his own little puddle. His gloved hands, lying side by side, vibrated sending out endless ripples.

Ruka stared at him, both impressed and guilty. She clamped her teeth shut and grunted as she forced herself up, supporting her upper body with her arms. She looked him over, noticing the tiny, smoking holes in his clothes. The steam wafting off him, plus his lethargic, shaking state and that _smell..._ He must have suffered some serious burns.

She knit her brow and pursed her lips at him. How was he able to do that? It shouldn't have been possible to take so many electrical shocks of such intensity and still stand, let alone fight. He should have died, no joke. But he didn't die, and she would silently admit that she was glad. She hated him, but she didn't want his blood on her hands. It wouldn't sit well in her mind if he died for her, even if he was only protecting her because he'd been told to keep her alive.

She noticed another odd scent in the air, like copper and sawdust. Thinking it might have been the work of the storm, she looked out and felt her heart sink. There was no going out in that. She was in no condition to attempt another barefoot dash through blinding rain and mudslides. Even if she tried, she probably wouldn't get very far.

She sniffed the air, grimacing at the pungent smell. She followed it back to Dragon and felt a cold fist clutch at her heart. Once again, she remembered Bonnie knocking him out, and without a second thought she leaned over him and yanked his hood back.

It was her first time actually seeing his entire face. His hard-set features, broad tip nose, no eyebrows, square jaw, widows peak and the fresh burns over his temple and cheekbones. Ignoring all this, she brushed her fingers over the back of his head, through long dark hair and felt her throat constrict when she felt something. An odd, thick, warm and sticky something that was part dry, part runny. She pulled her hand free and found it was completely covered in fresh blood, with bits of black, dried blood mixed in.

She inhaled sharply, horrified, and patted the back of his head some more. He was bleeding profusely, and she realized he hadn't tended to it at all. This entire time, even though he'd been behaving normally, he was bleeding out under his cloak! Come to think of it, there'd been a few doctors in that port town they were in two days back, but he hadn't visited a one of them. She had just assumed he'd taken care of it himself back at the inn, but in fact he'd let it worsen! The small gash she'd given him was still there, too. What the Hell?!

She felt the guilt in her heart swell, but it was quickly turned to rage. She grabbed his shoulder and forced him onto his back, giving him a dirty look.

"Are you messing with me?" She accused. "You try to kill me, then save my life. You fight like you want to live, but you let serious wounds turn fatal and walk around like you're fine. You're freaking crazy!"

Dragon moaned, turning his head in his sleep. Ruka grabbed his chin and forced him to face her.

"Hey, don't you dare die!" She ordered, aggravated. "I don't want to be in your debt any more than I already am! Why the Hell did you bother to save me? I'm dead as soon as we reach Mariejois! Sure, I was scared back there, but it would've been better than whatever they've got planned for me! You're so good at what you do, there's no way they'd get rid of you even if you lost me. Hey! WAKE UP!"

She shook his chin, but all that did was make him groan internally. She sighed in aggravation, livid and frustrated and confused all at once. Her gratitude dulled, becoming overwhelmed by hatred. Why had she turned back? Because she felt pity for him? What a waste of perfectly good sympathy. No matter what he'd gone through, he was one of _them!_ She didn't owe him anything! It was stupid, suicidal, to think anything otherwise.

"You... You ruined everything!" She hissed under her breath. He showed up out of nowhere, disrupting and irrevocably damaging the peace and happiness she'd built together with her crew. Even if she made it back to them, she'd have to face the humiliation of them knowing her secret. They would welcome her back eagerly, but the man they'd come to know in the last two years was now dead. Nothing would be the same.

Now she was stuck here, in this cave with him, forced to wait out the storm. As soon as it passed, he would wake, of that she had no doubt. Then she would once again be forced to face her impending demise. One which would probably be delivered through torture. At this rate, that was all that awaited her.

She released his chin and clenched his fists. If only he wasn't here. Then she wouldn't have to die, and neither would any of the others he'd killed. He was just a puppet, being controlled by the people she truly despised. He should've died years ago, in his cradle!

She sat back, mad eyes and stony expression aimed at the unconscious, dying guy beneath her. Her gaze shifted, small pupils zeroing in on the knife she'd dropped at their feet as soon as they entered this cave. It was just lying there, right by his boot, gleaming with each flash of lightning.

She reached over, eyes shaking as her fingers curled around the handle. She lifted it, getting a feel for its weight as she held it close to her chest. There was something carved into the leather handle, but that didn't concern her. The blade was fine and sharp.

 _Perfect for cutting throats._

"You shouldn't have saved me." She whispered. She moved over him, laying her free hand beside his head and digging her fingers into the soil. She held the knife perpendicular to his throat, digging the tip into his skin.

He became very still. Had he heard her? She hoped so.

"You awake yet?!" She yelled, as if she were challenging him. "Come on! I want to see your face! Any last words? Just try and fight back, scum!"

His eyes flicked open and her heart stopped. It was like someone turned the sound off. The world consisted of Dragon, Ruka, the knife between them, and their little cave.

Dragon didn't move an inch. He only stared up at her, and she stared back in a mad rage. She saw no fear there, only grim acceptance and a total lack of surprise. As if... He'd expected it to end this way all along. Like he... had wished for it.

She froze, realization dawned on her face. Little clues, things she had seen since meeting him, fell into place piece by piece. The way he'd reacted when she'd praised his alias back at the inn, his distant and cold attitude. He'd come to kill her at night, but without wearing his CP0 mask. He'd removed his gloves, looked her in the eye, called her by what he'd believed was her name, as well as her nickname. He didn't harm her sister, even after she wounded him. He didn't bother to treat his wounds, leaving him weakened. He shielded her from their attackers, and ordered her not to move even though he'd unlocked her handcuffs.

She gasped, feeling as if someone had ripped the ground out from under her feet. Slowly, she set the knife aside and blinked at him. He didn't tear away from her gaze even as his eyes turned a little sad... Almost disappointed.

She felt an unbearably heavy pain in her heart and placed her hands over her mouth. Where blood lust and fury had been, there was now nothing. She felt hollow, empty, yet shell-shocked as she struggled to come to terms with what she just realized.

"You planned this." She stated, eyes flickering over the cave before she blinked, and found herself looking back at him. He was quiet, awake but quiet, and stone still. So she leaned down and fisted his collar so their faces were mere inches apart. "You planned this, didn't you? _Didn't you?!"_

He unlocked her handcuffs _knowing_ she would run. He came after the shadow that would've killed her and finished it off, and was angry, but not _at_ her. He'd been angry that she hadn't made it out.

He dropped that knife on purpose, hoping she'd pick it up. He'd done plenty of walking himself to get to this cave, and when they were finally there, he gave in to exhaustion and just... waited, fully aware she'd see he was weak and vulnerable and at least for the moment, easy to kill.

It was crazy, and yet everything fit together perfectly. He tricked her, and she'd almost gone through with it. She bit her lip as she shed tears, more angry than she'd ever been before. Angry and devastated.

"Why? Tell me why!" She screamed, lifting him off the ground by his collar.

He blinked, looking away as tears streamed down her cheeks and hit his face.

"I was bored." He told her, and she was on the verge of slapping him.

"Don't joke with me!" She yelled, and he shook his head.

"I'm not." He told her, looking at the cieling blankly. "It's all gotten very boring."

"What has?!" She hissed, shaking him.

"Life." He said, and she jerked back painfully. "It's been nothing but the same old, depressing story for as long as I can remember. Just the same events repeating themselves over and over again. Frankly, I'm tired of it."

She blinked tears away, loosening her grip on his collar.

"You're tired?" She asked in disbelief.

He nodded slowly.

"But that's—!" She stopped, trailing off. She had felt that way, before, in her old life. It was hard, running and scavenging and hiding. It was just... the same stuff repeated every day, just like he said. So many times, she'd wanted to quit, and would have if not for Bonnie.

"But you can't just quit!" She yelled, speaking more for people in general than to Dragon. "You're still alive!"

"No one cares." He told her, and her face fell. "Even I've stopped caring."

She grit her teeth. "If you hate it so much, why don't you just run off?! You've got nothing to lose, right?"

"I tried." He told her. "I never got very far. They dragged me back and then..." His eyes darkened, and she was able to figure out how that sentence went.

Her heart ached, and she dried her eyes with the back of her hand as he looked away.

"That still doesn't explain why you tried to let me escape." She pointed out, and his gaze shifted back to her. "You act like you don't want me to die."

"I don't."

She froze, not believing his words. Her hand dropped from her eyes and she regarded him with awe. She felt anguish when she looked into his bluntly honest eyes and more tears poured from her eyes.

"Why not?" She croaked.

Dragon hesitated, thinking it over before he spoke: "I... just don't. You've impressed me. And I really can't see how you're any threat to them. They wouldn't tell me why you had to die, and if I didn't know better I'd say they were entertaining themselves."

Ruka pressed her palms over her sockets. "That's stupid."

Dragon nodded, admitting that.

"You're crazy." She told him, and he shrugged as he laid his cheek on the ground. "But that might be reasonable if you've been with them you're whole life."

He rolled his shoulders and Ruka placed her hands on either side of his head. He looked up at her once more, attentive, and she lowered her head until their faces were mere inches apart.

"If running is no good, then how about fighting back?" She suggested, and his eyes popped. "I'll... Even help if you want."

Dragon was clearly skeptical. "Why would you do that? I thought you were going back to your crew?"

"I am! I am!" She insisted, nodding and squaring her shoulders. "But... I hate you a little less now. And if things stay like this, you'll just 'get bored' again." She sat up and pressed a fist over her eye, sobbing. "Just now... I was thinking I don't want you to die either."

She saw a little light enter his eyes when he heard that. He struggled to move one hand, reaching up behind her ear so his fingertips just barely brushed the tips of her hair.

"You should grow it out..." He told her, and she sniffled. She placed her hands over his and laced their fingers together, leaning into his touch as she cried.

"Okay." She said with a quick nod.

His hand dropped and she gasped, seeing his eyes roll back in his head. She leaned down, frightened and tried to shake him awake.

"Dragon?!" She called, panicked.

"I'm fine." He whispered weakly. "Just tired. Need to... Rest..."

"You're not going to die, are you?" She asked pleadingly.

"No." He choked out. "I promise. I'll probably be out for a few hours. If the rain lets up—"

"I'm not going anywhere!" She yelled, as he drifted off to sleep. "I'm...! Staying here..."

As soon as she said the words, she knew it was crazy. He had tried to trick her into killing him herself precisely because he couldn't just let her go. It was dangerous, staying with him any longer than she had to. The smart thing to do would be to take off as soon as the storm calmed down. But she couldn't do that now.

She'd had a glimpse of the truth. She wasn't that clever, but she got the just of it. He didn't work for them. They'd raised him to believe he couldn't be anywhere but with them, wouldn't be anything but one of them. But that was wrong, she was certain.

"They don't own you." She whispered, her ears full of his even breathing. She clutched his shoulders and lowered her face so close to his their noses touched. "And I'm going to prove it."

 **00000**

 **No one owns you, though people do their best to make you believe the opposite.**

 **Poor Dragon! Raised by CP0 in Mariejois=horrible traumatic childhood. The proper term for his current "belief" is conditioning, defined as "train or accustom (someone or something) to behave in a certain way or to accept certain circumstances." Dragon was taught to feel very little, obey the powers that be, and never, ever stray from his "mission." Ever felt trapped and worthless? Combine that with the horrific, shadowy background of the OPverse World Government and you've got a living Hell. **

**I will update again, but I'm not sure when. I hope to start college for the fall semester and that, combined with my part time job, will take a big chunk of time. Plus there's exercise, food breaks, hygiene of course, and some relaxing. Play is just as important as work! But hopefully I will see you again soon. Now, review please!**


	10. Chapter 9: Dreams and New Movement

**Time for a new chapter everyone. Sorry for the long wait, I know how distracting and/or frustrating it can be. I'm a college student now, and I have a part time job, and sadly as I am still living with my mother she likes to make me do housework. So that's the bulk of things that keep me from my writing, which is my passion and my goal. I'd like to at least update the story once every two months. I think I can work with that setup. However, if I get more reviews I'll attempt to update faster. This chapter begins with a dream/flashback. It seems irrelevant, like something I could've cut out but I promise you it. Is. Not. This is one of those things that don't make sense until later on, and ends up being vitally important.**

 **Now, I have something to apologize for. In one of my previous author notes, I mentioned that Garp sometimes goes home to visit Ace. As it turns out, that's impossible. Where we are in the current canon story arc, Roger was executed 24 years ago, and Ace was born 2 years later (having been protected by his mother who held her pregnancy for twenty months through sheer willpower). Now in this fanfic, not even a full year has passed since Roger's death so Ace couldn't have been born yet. So sorry about this (at least it wasn't a total plot error). I'll be checking the timeline and wiki in the future before adding new chapters to avoid any more mistakes. However, I'll look at this as a blessing in disguise. Now I can include Garp finding Rogue in the story. Not in full detail, no, but I can work it in somewhere which might be fun.**

 **Now, Luffy was born 19 years ago, about five years after Roger's execution and of course three years after Ace. In this chapter, there are three months left until the anniversary of Roger's execution. Luffy was born in May, but never mind that for now. The point is, this chapter takes place approximately 4 years and three months before Luffy's birth. I'm sure some (if not all) of you have deduced that that is where this is all leading: the birth of Monkey D. Luffy. How else would a fanfic about his parents end? Thus, I plan to make the story span the course of those approximate 4 years and three months. I'd like to keep it from getting too long, but I want to include some cameos from some of our favorite characters, and of course Dragon will meet some of his friends, and also the major Ohara incident. I can't skip it. I just can't. I feel like it would really touch a nerve with Dragon, who will become the man who fights against the World Government. So look forward to the Ohara-feels chapter and possible Nico Robin cameo.**

 **Please enjoy the chapter! Please _review!_**

 **Chapter 9: Dreams and New Movement**

 ** _Fifteen Years Earlier_**

 _Dragon's shaking fingers massaged bashed, mangled knuckles and wrists. Seething water gushed forth, flowing over open gashes, darkening bruises and cracked nails encrusted with dried blood. He ground his teeth together, wincing as he inhaled and exhaled sharply in pain. The water was_ boiling _hot. The skin of his wrists and hands felt raw, tingly. More than likely, his bruises were topped with burns now._

 _His shoulders lurched, then straightened; a strangled gasp forced his teeth apart. Shuddering violently, he curled shaking fingers into an unsteady fist and slid his forearm from the sinks edge to the front rim. His other forearm lay in the sink, near limp save for the violent quivering. He made a fist with that hand, too, and pressed the knuckles against the curved porcelain._

 _Dazed, he leaned forward to bite the blood soaked "hot water" handle. Grunting, he shut it off, and rested his head on his propped-up forearm._

 _For a moment, he just stood there, his mind racing at ninety miles per hour as he tried to stop his breath from catching in his throat. The back-pain from remaing hunched over a solitary bathroom sink for hours was murder. And he would know. He most certainly knew..._

 _He wondered how much time passed since he had returned from his first job, battered and haunted by the night's events. As soon as he'd finished his report, he returned to Cipher Pol 0's lodgings and found the nearest restroom, locking himself inside. He must have looked awful: a twelve-year-old boy trying to rub away the bloodstains and wounds on his hands. He was unsuccessful, and while he'd been focused on the wounds he could see, the ones under his clothes went unattended. The blood seeped out from underneath his long, dark clothes and pooled at his feet. The puddle was fairly big too, sending off all kinds of alarms in his head. He knew he should go see the doctor, but he really couldn't drag his feet even to leave the washroom that now stank of blood and orange-scented shampoo..._

 _His shoulders lurched, back jolting in and out of place. He heard a loud_ crack _and grit his teeth in pain, knowing it was his bones he was hearing. He'd broken so many… Or rather, the assigned target had broken many of Dragon's bones even as he left this world._

 _The target was a civilian. A young man, only fourteen. He had a reputation as a vigilante who retaliated against the corrupt monarchy of his country in order to protect his people. People who were dropping like flies as a result of starvation. Unfortunately, this kingdom was a World Government member nation, and spies had leaked intel to the World Nobles that the boys parents were both slaves in Mariejois. Somehow, this made the young rebel Dragon's responsibility._

 _Dragon had come at a bad time, having witnessed the camaraderie shared among the kingdoms rebels. He'd waited for the boy to wander off, and then… He'd attacked. This was his first assignment, and his first target, and as he'd always known his heart wasn't in it. Even with years of training, studying, and attempted brain washing, Dragon nearly died. The other boy was strong, and unlike his CP0 assassin, had had the desire to_ live.

 _Still, by a stroke of luck or misfortune (he wasn't sure which) Dragon managed to end the boy's life by bashing a rock into the back of his head. The death wasn't as clean as his instructors would have desired but the job was done. He'd managed to escape before the backup arrived, already too late. Part of him had the desire to stick around, face them, apologize. But they wouldn't forgive him, not ever. And anyway, an apology was worthless._

 _His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, catching the edge of the sink. He exhaled shakily. Dark, sad eyes zeroed in on all the spots of blood. That rebel boy had wanted to live so bad, he beat Dragon senseless. He'd had the opportunity to run, but he stood and went down fighting. Dragon wished he hadn't. If he'd let that boy escape, Dragon would have still been beaten into this sorry, raggedy mess but would have been spared the heavy anguish that choked him now._

 _Sitting there on the cold, blood-splattered tiles, Dragon knew he'd never been in more pain. There were the broken bones, the lacerations and the heavy bruising. But even his steaming hands didn't compare to the nausea and heartache. But... But his head... His head was buuuurning..._

 _Blinking away the sweat and mopping up the blood with his sleeve, he pushed himself to his feet. He staggered a little, but came to a stop by wrapping his arms over his churning stomach. Pulling his hood over his disheartened face to fend off the suddenly unbearable bright light, he trudged over to the open shower, and turned the cold water on. Fully-clothed, he curled into a ball and let the cool water wash over him. It hit the back of his neck, massaging his stiff and sore body. Dragon kept his head tucked between his knees and gripped his elbows, deciding he couldn't cry. He didn't have the right to._

 _Why was he here? Why had he killed that boy? He could've stopped. He'd wanted to stop. He'd been so desperate not to become_ their _killer,_ their _tool. He didn't want this. He never wanted any of it. It was overwhelming. So much pain, too much agony. Why? Whyyyy? Why did his head feel sooo hot...?_

 _He ducked his head further, tightened his arms around his knees. Painful. It was all so painful. And it was going to happen again, and again, and again. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. This inescapable fate had already snagged him in its trap a long, long time ago._

 _He didn't want to think about it anymore. He didn't want to feel the pain... When did he lie down? He couldn't remember lying down. The room was so foggy, just like the mirror. Just like his head... So hot..._

 _"Help me..." He called out. "Please, help... Help... Help..."_

 _ **000000**_

 ** _Present Day_**

"Help..." He begged, seeing sunshine behind his eyelids. "Help me..."

His head was propped on something. His cheek felt a contrast between cloth and smooth, soft skin. He sighed, sounding relieved and happy, but unable to explain why.

His fingers flexed and clawed and stretched, gripping what felt like a knee. He knit his brow in confusion, feeling other fingers run through his hair, poking and probing the sore spot at the back of his skull. Deft, nimble fingers brushed hair aside and drummed over his head wound, making his head sink low. He could feel that he was lying on his side, and could deduce that his cheek was resting on what could only be someones lap. Not much of a pillow, but it was pretty comforting. Who though?

He clenched his fists and were surprised not to feel any pain from the movement. His hands were lying in dirt, somewhat moist just like the clean-smelling air yet not quite mud. The opposite, in fact it was relatively dry and cool, as though it were shaded.

"Hang on, I'm almost done." Said a voice he recognized, yet couldn't quite identify.

From the sound of it, she was the one messing around with his head wound. Normally, that would have jolted him awake. He was taught never to keel over anywhere when he was in the field. There were those who would love to torture a CP0 agent to death. To some, they were more worthy of a gruesome demise than the World Nobles. So half-dead or not, he always stayed on his toes. Only now was different, because if he died here then she could escape—

 _"You're not going to die, are you?"_

Dragon's eyes flicked open. "Ruka."

He was immediately blinded by the golden sunlight shining down through the tree leaves. He winced, shutting one eye and narrowing the other as one of his dirty hands flew up to shield his face. Again, he was surprised by the lack of agonizing pain. There was a light twinge in his forearm and shoulder, but nothing serious. He vaguely noticed his sleeve had been ripped open, and someone had thrown his cloak over him like a blanket.

His mind reeled, and he tried to push himself up. But strong, slender arms came down, one stretching over his own arm to lace their fingers together and the other gently placed over his head to keep it from rising.

"Don't move." She ordered softly, and Dragon's eyes flickered up to meet her resolute gaze.

"Ruka...?" He called, wary and skeptical. He realized now he'd fallen asleep in a dream and awoke in reality, but it felt backwards.

Realizing he'd settled, she returned her attention to his head wound. He swept his eyes over the cavern roof and walls, carved up dirt with his fingers.

He felt strangely calm for an invalid. That was a first. He was groggy, too, and would have let his eyelids slide shut if not for the sharp feeling in the pit of his stomach. A sharp tap to the back of his skull jolted him awake.

"What are you doing?" He asked, squinting as he ascertained that he could still feel his limbs.

Ruka pursed her lips in concern. "Well, I've been trying to keep your head clean of any blood while you've been out, but..." She brushed her fingers over the wound, "But it's a little difficult. All that rain washed whatever herbs might have been here away. The depressions on the roof of this cave are filled with rainwater, so that's all we have. Um... Even though I had to take care of Bonnie's and my own injuries when we were little, neither of us ever got anything worse than a deep cut on the arm."

Dragon's eyes slid shut. "I see."

In other words, she only knew a little basic first aid. She didn't know how to take care of his bleeding skull when he might have a concussion or something worse.

"How long have I been out?" He asked calmly.

"Ummm..." She leaned back, pressing her index finger to her temple. "Two nights, so over twenty-four hours. It's been light out fairly long, so I think its noon?"

"Hmmmm..." Dragon hummed, opening his eyes. They spent a day on this island, the evening of which was spent in that storm. He slept through day two, now had awoken to day three at approximately noon... Ah. The marine ship. It was supposed to arrive today, at the tail end of the island. That storm had forced them back towards the opposite end, where they'd been dropped off. If it really was noon, then they had three hours at best to get to the other shore or they'd be stranded here indefinitely.

"Ah! Ah!" Ruka fussed as he ignored her pushy hands and sat up. Reaching down, he pulled the dirty cloak off and around, tying the pull-strings over his collar bone. He raised one knee, bracing one hand over it as he tried to get up but was stopped when Ruka jumped on him, throwing her arms around his waist in an attempt to pull him back down.

"Get off me." He said half-heartedly, whipping his head away to squint in deep thought. Meanwhile, Ruka clung to him as if someones life (probably his own) depended on it. He tried to shoo her away, but Ruka shot to her feet and trapped one of his arms against his side in a gripping hug that actually made Dragon cough for breath. It felt like a boa constrictor had coiled around his body and was trying to squeeze him to death.

He used his free hand to reach around, lifting her up by the back of her shirt and freeing himself. She hung in the air like a naughty cat and stretched her arms out, moving them up and down desperately while flushed and appearing very concerned not to mention embarrassed.

"You can't get up!" She shouted willfully. Dragon arched an eyebrow at her, skeptical that she still believed she could order him about.

Not that she noticed. She raised her arms and swatted at her back, trying to get free of his grip.

"You're head's bleeding!" She reminded him. "You'll die!"

She was probably correct, but nonetheless they didn't have any time for Dragon to sit and rest. Flaring pain at the back of his head and weak legs be damned, they were making it to that ship. He threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour and marched out of that cave.

Outside, the previously tranquil forest was now a heavy-on-the-eyes wreck of splintered, uprooted wood with a floor of feet-consuming mud that sparkled in the sunlight. The wild transponder snails seemed to have survived somehow, and appeared annoyingly cheerful as they traveled up and over the wet trunks of dead trees. Dragon squinted at them in suspicion as he half-slid/half-hopped one foot at a time down the mud hill. Ruka beat on his back with her fists and consequently hit some of his more severe burns, but he ignored her all the same.

He knew she was insulting him("Suicidal, stone-faced psycho!") but he couldn't just stop and talk her down when they'd spent too much of their time in a cave riding out a storm and nursing wounds. If they didn't keep moving through the mud and the wreckage they'd miss the ship.

"Seriously!" She whipped her head around as she pleaded almost tearfully. "You need a doctor! You might need stitches or something! I'm not a doctor, but even I know it's really bad when someone's head bleeds for hours! How are you even moving right now?!"

"I'm not a doctor either." He told her, noticing too well how he dodged her question. He didn't really feel like trying to explain his extraordinary vitality or fast-healing at the moment. But for as long as he could remember, he'd been surviving impossible odds and fatal injuries. He'd grown accustomed to extreme pain, having developed a high tolerance for it by the time he was a teenager, and barely felt anything (be it bullets or broken bones) after he turned twenty.

"You were burning up in your sleep!" Ruka exclaimed, trying to push herself off his shoulder but was held down by Dragon. "It was really bad! I thought you were going to die! We've gotta get off on this island and find a doctor—"

"We can't." Dragon cut her off, and felt her tense, becoming still.

"How come?" She said, now relaxed just enough to do some listening.

Dragon braced one hand against a fallen log and hopped over, walking around a fairly deep puddle. His gaze sharpened as he remembered the old days, when he was training with the CP0 veterans. They'd drilled into him not just the ways and system of CP0 and the World Nobles, but also warnings. Warnings of "humans" who lived on the surface who "owed their lives" to the "prosperity and peace provided by the World Government." These "ordinary" people were actually resentful of the Celestial Dragons to the point that they would kill them all on sight in painful, nasty ways if they could get away with it. However, attacking a World Noble came with severe repercussions. CP0 was different. No one came to their aid because they were expected to defend themselves. And there had been... incidents. Like what happened to the Doflamingo family after they "descended from heaven." Then there were other occurrences, ones no one in CP0 discussed but always thought about. New agents who had gone out and never returned, or were found dead. Mutilated, or in pieces, or tortured to death or—

"Dragon?"

Ruka's voice, soft and concerned, yanked him out of old memories and he awoke in a cold sweat. He blinked, looking down at his feet now sunk ankle-deep in mud. He gulped, wondering how long he'd been standing there. Ruka reached around to tug lightly on a strand of his hair.

"Hey!" She called faintly, as if she'd noticed the choking fear that froze Dragon in his tracks.

His mouth formed a tight line as he blinked in deep thought. His eyes shifted left and right, seeing sunbeams shining through branches and a swamp of mud puddles and more broken wood. He ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut and squaring his shoulders. After several moments, he straightened up and very gently took her off his shoulder, setting her in front of him atop a fallen log.

She patted the wood with her feet and looked up at him curiously. He shot her a pointed stare that had her pursing her lips in confusion.

"What is it?" She asked

"You're acting like you've forgotten who I am." He stated, eyes narrowing under furrowed brow.

"So?" She asked, unconcerned. Dragon suppressed an aggravated groan and walked a short distance away to lean against the nearest tree.

"I'm the enemy, yours to be precise." He locked eyes with her, and her eyebrows disappeared behind sandy-brown bangs. "I'm a threat to anyone and everyone who angers or opposes the World Nobles."

Ruka frowned, apparently disagreeing. "Are you their friend?"

Dragon knew she was referring to the Celestial Dragons, and that question sent another jolt of fear throughout his body. But he kept his composure just enough, looking away as he answered her question.

"No." He said, feeling just the tiniest shard of doubt in his response.

"Are they your family?" She asked, tilting her head.

"No!" Dragon nearly screamed. He paused, pushing the repulsive thought of being _one of them_ away and crossed his arms over his chest.

Ruka pouted, either sad or unable to understand. Dragon couldn't tell which.

"Are you their _slave?"_

Dragon's eyes shot open in outrage. He felt something hot boiling at the back of his throat like fire, and he whipped his head up in a fit of rage as he slapped one hand into the tree with such force it broke clear in half and fell over.

 _"Absolutely not!"_ He declared, his bellowing voice carrying clear over the treetops to scare the birds away and making Ruka tense as her hair flew up behind her. The tree hit the ground with a thundering _boom_ and _crunch_ so that it almost passed for a bolt of lightning striking the ground not fifteen feet away.

Dragon panted, curling his fingers over the curled stump. His chest rose high and fell low as his heart beat away at a mile a minute. Wide-eyes with contracted pupils looked at Ruka from behind windblown raven hair that hung in his face like a dark curtain.

Meanwhile Ruka was staring at him as if she had suffered some near-fatal electrical shock. Slowly, her features settled into a calm gaze before her eyes filled with a golden warmth and the edges of her mouth turned up in a playful, wise, too-old smile.

"What?" Dragon asked between gasping breaths.

Ruka shook her head, not losing her smile even as her eyes relaxed. "It's just... You kind of behave like one. A slave. I've seen them before, in my hometown when they were with the traffickers. Only..." She frowned thoughtfully, "They were different. Most of them had already given into despair as soon as they were caught. And they had chains on their wrists and ankles. I think you've got them to, chains I mean. But in a different place."

Dragon stared at her, curious but defiant. "Where is that?"

Ruka's expression blankened, and to answer him she tapped her heart. Dragon's own heart sank a little before bobbing back up in his throat. He pulled his free arm back, feeling the urge to knock over another tree.

"It's funny, though." Ruka laced her fingers behind her legs and leaned back, smiling cheekily. "I believe that's what you're resisting them with. Not your words, or your limbs, but your heart. It doesn't want anything to do with that rotten lot, does it?"

Dragon looked away, shutting his eyes. "Why do you care?"

"'Cuz!" She piped, leaning back on her heels. "I think it's a shame that someone as strong as you is taking orders from jerks like them. It's... A waste."

Dragon met her gaze without turning his head. She seemed sincere. Unbelievably, genuinely, astoundingly sincere. He couldn't understand how or why, but he believed every word out of her mouth without a moments hesitation. That should have scared him. After all, scum had attempted to brainwash him and for the most part succeeded. But not to Ruka. She seemed to believe he wasn't one of them, contradicting a previous accusation she made when they were on her ship.

He sighed through his nose and straightened up. Still on guard, he turned to face her.

"What would you suggest then?" He asked. It was rhetorical, and he wasn't thinking about it much, but she immediately replied.

"Run away with me!"

He jolted as the hair on the back of his neck stood up and his shoulders pulled back in a sort of recoil.

"What?" He questioned, now rethinking taking everything she said seriously.

Ruka hopped down and ran over to him, snatching his hand in hers.

"Run away with me!" She beamed, stepping around the tree Dragon destroyed so that their arms were stretched out as far as possible. "Let's run this way! Away from that marine ship!"

She attempted to take off, only to get yanked to a stop as a result of her own momentum and Dragon's still feet.

"Hold it." He ordered, and she looked over her shoulder at him blankly. "What are you talking about?"

"I just told you!" She quipped grumpily, throwing her free hand up to point in her desired direction. "Run away with me!"

"Stop _saying_ that." He commanded, feeling overwhelmed for reasons he didn't understand.

"But you told me to say it again!" She countered, walking back to stand in front of him and put her hand on her hip.

"No, I didn't." He insisted, pressing his palm over his eye in exasperation. "I meant—"

"Come with me!" She demanded, rephrasing her previous demand and standing on her toes so as to shorten the distance between them.

Dragon stared down at her, amazed and a little embarrassed in spite of himself. He looked away again, but she grabbed his collar and yanked him down, forcing him to look at her.

"If you go back to them, you'll die." She assured him, and he felt his heart chill. "If you come with me, you'll be free."

Dragon leaned back, feeling as if an invisible string yanked him away.

"It isn't that simple." He stated, head bowing and eyes darkening. There was nowhere he could go they wouldn't find him, and when they did catch him they'd drag him back and teach him a lesson. Just as they had when he was a little boy who would lay in bed at night crying into his pillow from the pain of the heavy bruising that spotted his ribs and back. He'd feel physical agony and mental anguish and then, terrified, would forcibly accept it all.

"Yes it is!" Ruka argued, eyes flashing as she nodded. "Freedom is the best thing in the entire world! It already belongs to everyone the moment they're born! No one should have the power to take it away! If they have, then you need to take it back! If you don't, then you'll die. Even if you survive every battle, you'll die of _sadness."_

Dragon laughed weakly, rolling his eyes to the right. "Is that so?"

Ruka's frowned contorted into one of pain, stubbornness, and desperation. Curling her fingers, she placed one fist over Dragon's heart and the other over her own.

"They haven't taken this!" She reminded him sternly, and he regarded her with grim acknowledgement. "As long as they don't have this, you aren't one of them!"

 **00000**

"Ehhh?" Garp whined, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. "Why do I have to go to West Blue?"

Sengoku gnashed his teeth together and slammed his fist down on his desk "Because one of our _top officers_ moseying around HQ, cackling at his own lame jokes, and letting _classified information_ slip to rookies every five minutes is outright humiliating!"

Kuzan sat back in his chair with his fingers drumming quietly on the tufted arms. "I heard there's a situation in the West Blue that's been cause for concern. The Rackham Pirates have been going around from village to village, demanding information on CP0."

Sengoku nodded, throwing himself down in his chair to massage the space between his eyebrows. "Very good, Kuzan. Good to see someone behaving like a proper Marine. Yes, its true about Flint. I'm not sure what he's after, but CP0 work for the Celestial Dragons. Sharing or trading information about them is one of the highest offenses. Even if anyone did know anything, they wouldn't say. Even so, Flint's been wreaking havoc. He's acting out of character. Usually that lot just laze about, drifting from place to place and staging random attacks on our bases for sport."

Garp grinned wildly at Kuzan. "Maybe he's looking for one of their agents."

Sengoku frowned, sitting bolt upright in his chair to give Garp an expression of extreme displeasure.

"What makes you say that?"He asked, unsmiling.

Garp took a rice cracker out of the plastic sack and pointed it at him. "Remember back in the old days, when we were hearing rumors about Roger picking a fight with one of CP0's agents? No one knew if the stories were true, but we kept getting reports of him attacking random villages in South Blue."

Sengoku sat stoically. "Well, maybe. In any case, we need to stop those pirates. West Blue has enough problems without Flint losing his mind. And try to capture him quickly! I don't want CP0 getting involved in this. It'll lead to nothing but trouble."

"Ha!" Garp threw his head back. "You just don't want to get called to Mariejois for a lecture from those dafty old fools!"

Sengoku shot to his feet, raving mad. _"You're one to talk!_ Now get out of my office and do your job! And Kuzan, go with him!"

Garp whipped his head back into place, looking indignant. Kuzan simply nodded, however, and had Tsuru been there she most definitely would have seen the silent understanding pass between the young prodigal marine and the fleet admiral. Garp grumpily bit a rice cracker in half and got up from the seat in a huff, trudging out of the room while grumbling about old debts.

 **00000**

"Any word from Vegapunk?" Fifth asked, leaning his forehead against his propped-up fist.

"Unfortunately, yes." Second replied curtly, gripping his wrists behind his back. "I received the call earlier. He says that the interference is limited only to the red transponder snails, so its natural the others are connecting fine as usual. He has yet to determine the cause."

It _was_ unfortunate. Such a nice day, as was usual. Mariejois, located on the red line, resided at the very top of the cloud layer. Sunny days were endless. The white palaces and cobbled streets would shine and the fountains would sparkle. Slaves cared for the many gardens, so that hundreds of rare species of flowers decorated the courtyards. And yet, a day was only truly fine when everything was in working order.

First stroked the scar over his temple. "This is truly troublesome. The red transponder snails are CP0's only means of communicating with the Celestial Dragons. Without them, their work progress has slowed dramatically. Meanwhile, the list of assignments keeps lengthening and the Nobles grow more and more impatient. Their slaves are dropping like flies and the few who were travelling returned with more wives than they have space for. They're demanding replacements and have ordered random executions of some of our top officers."

"We need to take control of this mess." Third stated, leaning forward seriously. "We have at least three white transponder snails. Hand them out to the most capable operatives and divide up the list between them. Tell their fellow agents only to contact _them_ for new assignments, and we should be able to clear the list in under five days."

"That won't work." Fourth argued with a sneer. "The World Nobles are displeased. They'll keep giving orders until they get bored. Normally, CP0 can keep up with their mood swings but not with comms down indefinitely."

"In that case," First ordered, "Find something to distract or entertain them for the next few days. I predict that Dragon will return in less than a week. He has the strength and efficiency of a 100 man army at the least. Even if we are unable to contact him at this time, he'll fulfill his duties to the letter and use his instincts to return here as swiftly as possible. However, with the taboo forbidding citizens from discussing the business of CP0, we won't have any reports on his movements."

"Are you sure you understand the gravity of this situation?" Fifth asked, sounding acutely concerned. "When he first left, we ordered him to kill her. I believed that he would do so without any problems, and return post haste. But if he's travelling with one of _them_ , all alone—"

"Dragon was raised by the CP0 agents of old times," Second interceded. "Those veterans, with awesome power merely a step down from our own. Unlike his fellows, who were enlisted into Cipher Pol when they were thirteen, Dragon was properly trained and educated in the arts of war and torture from the time he could hold a spoon. He is ruthless, black-hearted, cunning, clever, and perfectly unique. If he were here, he could clear that long list of assignments in two days maximum. Though he may give us grief, that's only his character bleeding through. It's not a cause for a concern. That woman is his prisoner, his target, and victim. She will not prove to be influential in any way. He will deliver her to us, we will interrogate her, and then she will die. And he will continue his work."

"I think Fifth is right to be concerned." Third spoke up, earning the attention of the others. "Dragon sounded strange when I last spoke to him. If I didn't know better, I would have said he was disheartened."

"As I've been trying to say, it isn't a good idea to leave him alone with her." Fifth insisted. "He'll _sense_ it—"

"Enough." First raised his hand, impatience creeping into his tone. "What's done is done. He's in the field, on assignment, and we cannot contact him. Focus your attention on the situation that we can resolve."

"Aren't you even a little unsettled by this?" Fifth asked, briskly striding over to stand before First. The old leader and his younger associate locked still and steady gazes with First resting his chin on his raised knuckles while Fifth jutted his chin out. "He's out there on his own. Without the red transponder snails, we can't listen in on anything he's doing. He might run into someone, overhear something he shouldn't. Years of investing our best resources to turn him into something that be properly controlled and put to righteous use. Does it not disturb you that those conditions could change? That we might lose something invaluable?"

First lowered his hand, sighing through his nose in exasperation. "Do you fear him?"

Fifth and Third were both taken aback. They exchanged looks, asking a million silent questions in an instant before facing First.

"Not afraid." Third bluntly reassured. "Just wary."

"He's seen too much." Fifth reminded, weary-eyed and serious. "It's an occupational hazard, but all the same it could've been avoided. If we had—"

"We _allowed_ him to live," First cut in, authoritative and relaxed, "So he could be useful to us. He has been. As it stands, he's indispensable. Normally, I would allow you to follow your instincts and have him 'knocked off.' But even we have our limits. The Celestial Dragons are too fond of him, and not in the usual way. If something happens to Shiroryuu, those divine beings will become impossible. Anyway, you really shouldn't worry. A black heart may keep beating, but its owner doesn't care who he serves so long as he is respected and well-fed. And we've given him that. Dragon is no longer the pitiful little wretch who tried to escape us. He's a rare, top-of-the class elite soldier under their command. And the chances of anything or anyone changing that... Are zero."

 **00000**

"Island ahead!" Came a shout from outside the door.

The dingy, cramped little captains quarters stank of mildewed wood and barnacles. This retched little ship was crewed by a most pathetic batch of deadbeat recruits one of which was too far along in years to even be of service. Each and every time he was spotted, the old geezer was swabbing the exact same spot on the deck. His brains must have turned to mush. Useless old fool...

"Sir," Captain Yudai opened the cracked door, shutting it behind him and saluting his senior officer.

Sakazuki nodded, dismissing the stance without tearing his gaze away from the window. It was barely large enough to fit one hand through, not that it opened. The glass was cracked and dirty, ruining what little view he had of the horizon and the Island they were fast approaching. Said Island was still too far away to be seen clearly with the naked eye, but Akainu couldn't care less. He was here on this ship for a different reason.

"How long?" He asked, pulling his beige hood down to illuminate his blind spots.

"The island is within sight, as you can plainly see, sir." Yudai replied, crossing his arms behind his back as he approached Sakazuki. "We'll weigh anchor within the hour. If the dendenmushi are really as plentiful on this Island as they say, then we should be done with our mission in less than half an hour. As soon as we've collected our assigned quota, we'll be on our way to Paati Island."

"You'll bring the ship to shore in the next half hour." Sakazuki ordered severely.

The Marine captain looked as if he were trying to swallow a frog. "…Yessir. "

"Moving on," Sakazuki raised his forearm, leaning on it for support, "Tell me about our next destination. Paati Island. Why is it called that?"

Yudai appeared bewildered by this question. "Do you have some fascination with that Island, sir?"

"Answer the question." Sakazuki snapped, and Yudai paled.

He attempted to retain his composure by straightening up and holding his head up high. It didn't compliment the panting breath coming from his nose or the sweat on his eyelids.

"I've never been there, sir." Yudai replied, apparently still able to gather his thoughts. "But they say it's an endless party. It's a small island, out of the way with only one village. But it's home to... Well some claim that magicians live there."

Sakazuki scoffed. "Magicians... No such thing. Whatever odd powers are displayed, they're almost always the cause of a devil fruit."

"That's just it, sir!" Yudai practically jumped, as if his superior had made some error. "No one on that Island has ever eaten a devil fruit. But there's always a festival or an anniversary or some celebration going on. The elders of the village like to set up booths, and use their odd powers to earn a living."

"What sort of powers, exactly?" Sakazuki asked.

Yudai relaxed, showing confidence. "Psychics, sir. Palm readers, fortune tellers and the like. I used to think it was a hoax, but... My wife visited once. She was told to go to another island in the west blue. It took her several weeks to reach her destination, but as soon as she arrived she walked up to a young marine to ask for directions to the nearest inn. That's how we met."

Sakazuki regarded the captain coldly and looked back out the window. The captain continued talking. Just some useless chatter about his wife and their little adventure in his hometown, but Sakazuki tuned him out. They were closer to the island now, and he narrowed his eyes at it. For some reason he felt vile churning in his gut. His shoulders had weakened and there was a bitter cold that traveled through his chest like ice over a window in the middle of winter.

Odd. Too odd to ignore. He hadn't felt like this in a very long time. Not since—

"—Saw a Zoo," Yudai said, and Sakazuki's blood ran cold. "She loves Zebra's, even now. Them and—"

Sakazuki whirled. "What did you say?!"

Yudai froze, drawing a blank. He knit his brow, frowning and looking around as if to check if Sakazuki were addressing someone else. He seemed to accept that it was he whom Sakazuki was regarding with a mixture of unwanted nostalgia and anger, the kind associated with old injuries that never quite healed right.

"We saw a Zoo, sir." Yudai repeated, and Sakazuki let himself breath. "Zebras? Funny striped-horse things? My wife—"

"Never mind all that!" Sakazuki put his hand up, dismissing the matter.

Yudai's jaw shifted, showing discomfort. "Are you alright, sir?"

Sakazuki sighed through his nose, having forgotten the Island and the nausea it seemed to induce. His throat constricted as his mind conjured up old memories, flashes of hidden thoughts that he usually kept secret even from himself.

"I thought I heard..." He began, trailing off and tilting his head, shutting his eyes in an attempt to push the small wave of memories back behind the dam he'd constructed.

Just as everything went back over the edge, he caught something. An image of a boy with bandaged hands and a rucksack of stolen food, dressed in a cloak and boots with legs that were always trying to carry him onto the wrong path.

 _"Sazu!"_

Sakazuki rolled his head back in discomfort, inhaling sharply and snapping his eyes open.

"Take care of your business on this Island as quickly as possible." He ordered, glaring pointedly at the island as he rested his head against the wall. "I won't tolerate any dawdling. Now go!"

 **00000**

 **There you have it. Some of the Gorosei are concerned that Ruka will lead Dragon astray, while others are confident that's impossible. Meanwhile Garp has been sent to West Blue, the same blue Dragon is currently in. Sakazuki is on the ship that Dragon plans on using to get off Eel Island Pass, with neither one aware they're about to reunite for the first time in years. To top it all off, Ruka has set about trying to save Dragon from himself, the Gorosei, and the World Nobles.**

 **I hinted at Dragon's origins again, as I'm sure you picked up. I really can't wait to reveal that, but sadly both author and readers will have to be patient. It's too sloppy to reveal everything all at once and anyway my own theory about Dragon is a bombshell, if I do say so myself. I'd like to drop it near, on, or after the climax of this fanfic. Look forward to it!**

 **You might have been wondering why they were discussing Paati Island so much. I have big plans for this small Island. They'll probably reach it the chapter after next. And speaking of next, I'm not sure when I'll be able to add it. At most, you can expect it on November twentieth.**

 **Do please review. I can't begin to explain the creativity-crushing effects we authors suffer from lack of reviews. So review! Even if its just a single word, or a single sentence, it will be very much appreciated.**

 **Edit: My sister dropped one piece after we watched episode 487. I suppose I should have seen this coming, since she doesn't seem very moved by the constant feels or laughs. But my heart's broken right now, as she was the only one I could watch it with and she was so close to meeting my favorite character. I'm afraid my desire to write fanfiction revolves greatly around my mood and state of mind. So if you want me to keep writing, please write a review. I really need as much support as possible right now.**


	11. Chapter 10: A Big Ship And A Small World

**Another new chapter. This one took a little longer, as I had wanted to go further with it, but any more and the word count will be over 10,000. Not pretty, so I think I'll just stick to this. These multi-person chapters go through words like water. That is, they really rack up the word count. But it the time has come to give you a little insight into what's going on with the Rackham Pirates.**

 **Now I'm not feeling so hot. I'm really lacking the energy for doing anything other than sleeping. I'm taking vitamins for it, but I could really use some help. If you wanna encourage me or try to cheer me up at all you can leave a review or PM me. It would really help me to write the next chapter. As it is now, I might have to take a little break to nurse a broken heart with a few too many cups of coffee and my orange throw blanket. So review, review!**

 **00000**

Chapter 10:A Big Ship And A Small World

In the dark of night, with the moon high in the sky, Flint pulled the bottle from his lips with a loud pop. As he sat on the moderately large boulder, he twisted around to check on Bonnie. Her near-blank but solemn expression, which depicted a certain calmness, had yet to change. Still, her eyes shined with a gleam of madness, in both senses of the word. Flint would not have seen it if he didn't know her so well. As far as he had been able to tell, the crewmen were under the impression that she was as level-headed as a proper general drawing up battle plans. But Flint knew better, he always knew better.

 _But not as well as Luke._

He turned around, sliding one foot off the giant boulder and digging the heel of his boot into the dirt in an effort to vent some of his pent up... Fury? Worry? Frustration? He couldn't tell which he had the most of.

Gripping his raised knee he looked over into the cave which resided a stones throw away. As the two waited, resting on this random rock, there were people arguing underground, trying to decide whether to help them or eliminate them.

It began when they were in a village on the other side of the Island. Flint had encountered some manner-less slime and was beating a lesson into him when Bonnie suddenly pointed out a stranger. So Flint had dropped the geezer and whirled, spotting the shadow of a black cloak billowing in the wind as it disappeared behind the old inn. Bonnie and Flint both paled, with Flint's heart stopping as he withheld breath. So he'd grabbed Bonnie by the wrist and they began followed the suspicious fellow, who resembled Shiroryuu too much for Flint to even think of behaving like a gentleman.

 _Luke would tell him he was less a gentleman and more a stone-cold brute._

He laughed through his nose, froze, directed a passing glance at Bonnie, and sighed in relief to find she hadn't noticed. He knit his brow, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes darkened, overflowing with malice. As he placed his elbow atop his raised knee and ducked behind his arm, he could not have looked well at that moment, with his teeth on edge and gaze befitting that of a starving hawk. He _was_ hungry, though not for any human food. He was overcome with a ravenous need for blood. He wanted that low-down-dirty, good-for-nothing savage's head on a stick. More importantly, he wanted Luke back. No one in their crew could keep sailing forward with the knowledge they'd been so weak they were unable to stop one man from taking their friend away. Especially poor Bonnie, who was lost without her sister. Her every action was powered by the determination to reclaim her. It was like there was a fire burning inside her, one Shiroryuu ignited the moment he kidnapped Luke. But that fire was only a reliable power source so long as they kept their faith that Luke was really alive. If she died, then...

But they still had hope. What little they knew of Shiroryuu was mostly speculation, but they'd all seen him. The entire crew. He'd had his hood up, so only his callous eyes gleaming in the darkness and the lower half of his face were visible. He was tall, nearly a foot higher than Luke. And if they were to assume that that odd red transponder snail was still disconnected then their enemy was without any mean of contacting his boss.

So... Height, and no comms. That was all they knew. Well, that and the shady clothes he was dressed head to foot in. But if he put his mask on, he was as good as invisible. Only the very brave or very stupid breathed a word of CP0 to pirates. So Flint needed information, and he wasn't going to get any from the villagers. If he were a different man, he might have hired these mercenaries to hunt down and kill Shiroryuu, but that wasn't an option. They were pirates, not navy. They didn't send rogues or trained assassins after their enemies. They got their own hands dirty.

But, yes, they were resting outside the hideout of mercenaries. Not just any mercenaries either. These were the people that everyone, even pampered, sheltered princes, had heard rumors of but that no one knew actually existed. There many names for them, "Neccessary Evil," "The Shadow Commanders." Such pseudonyms came from various sources, marines and pirates and citizens. Flint had always referred to them as Mercenaries. No one knew what it was exactly that they did, but they were feared. It was said they had a hand in every world-shaking event, be it good or bad. A good deal of the underground had theorized they'd led the marines to the pirate king. But stupid rumors were irrelevant.

What Flint and Bonnie wanted, what they were waiting for was some good and solid lead. Or even random facts. That was what the man they'd followed had claimed to have. But apparently he couldn't just tell them on a whim. No, he had to discuss it with his comrades first. Hours had passed since he disappeared into that cave. Meanwhile, the rest of his men were likely laying about the ship in catatonic states.

"Captain." Bonnie said gently, with little color, "Don't look so hopeless."

He half-turned, his worry for her eclipsing his despair over losing Luke.

"My sister is not that soft," She assured, pride and anger burning in her eyes like suns, "She will not _sit_ and _wait_ for us to come for her. She will not march _quietly_ and _obediently_ to her death. She will not be broken, no matter what is done or said to her. She will kick—scream—and fight. She will use all of her strength to get free and come back to us. She will _staaaare_ that man down. She'll kill him. If he's lax, if he underestimates her in the slightest, she will take his life. Do not assume this is a rescue mission! We are _not_ rescuing her. We are going to meet up with her."

Each word was said with astounding conviction and clarity, as if these were not assumptions or predictions but pure facts. Flint stared at her in awe, ignoring the bottle as it slipped from his loose hands. It hit the ground with a dull thud, the only sound being the gulping, pouring swish of rum as it emptied out onto the dry topsoil. Everything else, the crickets and the wind, was silent.

"Bonnie..." Flint said, softening. He turned his head away, eyes shaking in anticipation. Squeezing them shut, he got to his feet, feeling Bonnie's saddened eyes on him as he came to stand before her. He grabbed her upper arms, keeping his eyes shut as he concentrated on her warmth and took a deep breath.

"Bonnie, I've got to ask you something." He said, blinking his eyes open but hesitating before he finally met her gaze.

"No." She said immediately, resolute and stubborn.

Flint lowered his head, meeting her on eye-level. "Bonnie, listen to me because this is very important. I don't know for sure... but this is what I think will happen: any moment now, some highly-skilled rogues are going to pour out of that cavern like locusts. Now, they might help us, but they also might try to kill us. And if it's the latter, we can either fight them off or run away, but then we'll be left with nothing. No means of tracking her down, no information, nothing at all. Nothing but you, and whatever you're not telling me!"

"No!" Bonnie jerked her head forward with the word.

Flint sighed and let his hands fall, stepping back and walking in a complete circle before marching back to her. He held his hands up, fingers curled, and shook them at her.

"This is not the time for secrets!" He stated with finality, but Bonnie turned her head away. "I'm not that smart, so I won't know unless you tell me. And I need you to tell me, because there's no other way."

"No." Bonnie said, chin jutting out and nose in the air.

Flint ran his fingers through his hair, aggravated. "Please... Please, Bonnie." He begged. "I don't know why they want her dead. I don't know why the pair of you lied to me since day one. I just don't know, and I wouldn't care except I've got a feeling that it's all tied together. I believe that whatever it is you're not telling me is the reason they took her. And I bet it could lead us to her. So please, just—!"

Bonnie's hand lashed out, fisting his shirt and yanking him down to her. Normally, this action was followed by a kiss, so it didn't really make sense for him to feel frightened. Or at least this was what he thought until he met her gaze, and saw that she was livid on a dangerous level. His mind drew up previous incidents in which Bonnie had been made angry and realized that had not been a fit of anger but a mild fuss. She was seriously ticked off now, and he was the cause of it.

If he didn't have memories of her expressing deep love and affection for him, he might have feared for his life.

"Not—Here." She whispered, conclusive and decisive.

Flint blinked nervously, meeting Bonnie eye for eye.

"Why?" He asked breathlessly. Hearing his rasping voice, Bonnie finally released him and he was allowed to straighten up and breath properly.

He smoothed out his shirt, patting his chest as she took a step forward, standing on her toes and tilting her head daringly at him.

"Because," She hissed, "We are standing in the shadow of a hideout of some shady jerks who spy on people. It's not the best time for a secret chat."

"Bonnie—" He began, but she shot him a cross look and he fell silent.

"Later," She said softly as she turned away, and he blinked at her in surprise, "Maybe. But not here."

"Bonnie, please." He pleaded, and she gave him a begrudgingly curious look. "You've got to tell me something. Anything."

She mulled this over, eyes shifting about before returning to him quietly.

"Netty." She said, making him jump. "... That's what I called her when we were little."

Flint sighed in wonder, frowning slightly before smiling curiously.

"Netty?" He questioned jokingly.

Bonnie walked around the boulder, taking Flint's old seat and bending her knees to brace her feet against the rock. She placed her elbows atop her knees and rested her face in her hands.

"Yeah." She said, smiling fondly at the thought. "I couldn't say Antoinette, so I called her Netty. Until..."

"Until?" Flint prompted, smiling weakly at her lost expression.

"...Until she chopped all her hair off and started calling herself something different." Bonnie finished sadly. She bit her lip and knit her brow, her face twisting up in pain.

Flint sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a seat beside her. She put her head between her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, hiding her face. Pretending not to notice her shaking as he began rubbing gentle circles on her back.

He could remember how things were before he met these two sisters. The crew was a little smaller back then, but they fought together all the same and shared a sense of brotherhood. They drifted from Island to Island in search of good times and fine alcohol. All the same, they made a lot of enemies as pirates always do. One of their biggest battles (and greatest victories) ever had forced them to sail into the infamous Sea Salt Village port in search of ship repairs and a doctor. It was there that Flint first heard of the Rogue Siblings, a brother and sister going by the name Read. They'd taken down the crime bosses that kept the red-light district running. Apparently the thugs had gotten over half of their funds from human trafficking, and one of the unfortunate souls sold into slavery was a young woman called Mavis. This girl was their friend, and when she was taken the siblings practically declared war on the slave traders.

In Sea Salt Village, where selling your body was the only source of payment and entertainment, doing something that not only slowed but caused the total collapse of the entire system was just as bad as setting fire to the village itself. As poor as they were, everyone fell even further and ultimately blamed Luke and Bonnie Read, not caring for whomever they were avenging. Soon, Luke and Bonnie were on the run from everyone in the village and whatever assassins they'd managed to hire with the last of their savings. They were fighting for their lives, and they were winning until the exhaustion combined with undernourishment and sleep deprivation started catching up with them.

His very first encounter with them happened when he stepped too far outside the deserted village. He found an open field, one used for crops, only you couldn't see any of the sprouts because the ground was littered with the dead, the knocked out, and the barely conscious. The last of which was filling the air with moans and groans of pain . And there, in the center of the defeated, stood the victorious. Raggedy, bloody, with swollen bruises and infected cuts and both of them just frozen, panting through gritted teeth, holding up staffs with knives tied to the end as if they were waiting for the next opponents. But they're opponents were all laying at their feet, beaten.

That was when he decided he wanted them with him. He wanted them at his side, forever.

Hearing footsteps brought him back to reality. He shot a wary look over his shoulder at the cavern entrance, and there he saw the same guy from before. The one they'd followed from the village, who claimed to have information and took hours to come and deliver it. At last, he'd re-emerged, only this time he had his hood down. The moonlight illuminated his previously hidden features, and Flint could see that he was neither too young nor too old. He guessed the man to be around thirty, only he was surprisingly short, something Flint had failed to notice before. Flint's greatest concern was perhaps the man's grim expression, unreadable in spite of everything.

Cautiously hopeful, while also alert, Flint stood and trudged over to the nameless mercenary.

Flint waited, expectant. Several moments passed by in which the two men simply stared each other down. Flint came to the conclusion that this man had to be very strong, making his height irrelevant. He had a feeling that the other could sense his strength as well. The mercenary tilted his head at him condescendingly, looking up at him through slit-narrow eyes as he flexed his fingers. Flint anticipated a fight, but then the shorter man spoke up in a monotone voice:

"What would you like to know?"

Flint forbade himself from breathing a sigh of relief and raised his head, jaw shifting as he replied:

"My first mate, Luke Read, has been kidnapped by CP0 operative Shiroryuu. I want to know where he's taken him, and what will happen to him."

It was best not to share information when digging for some more. Luke had to have a good reason for changing her name and pretending to be a man. She couldn't have tricked him on a whim. So it was best not to tell this stranger anything more than what he had to to get answers.

"You are asking for information we don't possess." The mercenary replied curtly, making Flint's eyes widen in protest. "We have very little to no findings regarding CP0."

"Then tell me what you do know!" He ordered, stepping forward to glower murderously at the man.

He was unfazed by this and looked up at Flint as if he were bored.

"Cipher Pol 'Aigis' 0's agents," He began, provoking Flint with his uncaring tone, "Reside in Mariejois with the Gorosei and the Tenryuubito."

Flint didn't reply. He stood, attempting to remain calm and allow the man to continue. However, when his moment of pause turned into a long and empty silence, he stepped back and squinted at the mercenary. Was he toying with him or waiting for a question? He wasn't in the mood for jokes!

"And?" He prompted at last, no longer able to keep silent.

"That is all."

Flint gaped, boiling rage turning to blank shock and morphing back into rage.

"That's all the information you possess on CP0?!" He screamed.

"That is all the information relevant to your case." The mercenary clarified, crossing his arms. "That is the entirety of what I have been permitted to share with you. As our other records are strictly need-to-know, and irrelevant in regards to your troubles, I do not feel compelled to tell you anything more than I already have."

"Why?!" He demanded. This couldn't be true, it just couldn't. They'd been waiting for hours and _this_ was their only reward?! They needed more than this!

The young man glared up at him. "We have gone to every extent to find out as much as we can about the World Government's ruling powers. However, even if we use all of our resources and then some, we are only able to gleam the tiniest bit of intel. I don't know what you were expecting to hear, but there are those who would sell their souls to know what I have just told you. So do not sound so inconvenienced!"

"But I need to find my freind!" Flint argued. He couldn't have reached a dead end after all this trouble.

"Do you want me to repeat the information?" The mercenary asked dully.

"But that's just it!" Flint said, pointing at him accusingly. "That bit doesn't help me! I need to know where..."

He trailed off as a cold fist closed around his heart. As upset as he was, he had failed to notice the obvious.

Flint cupped his hand over his mouth, massaging his jaw as he sighed tiredly through his jaw. As he struggled to remain calm, he could feel Bonnie's eyes on his back and could the mercenary arching his eyebrows patronizingly. With that, the mercenary turned on his heel, marching back into the cavern and out of sight. Flint could hear his echoing footsteps even as Bonnie raced up to him, reaching out to him while he stood hunched up gripping and pulling at his hair. When he whipped his head up to see her, he couldn't have looked more lost.

"Captain?" Bonnie called, not comprehending what the mercenary's words meant for them.

Of course. He was so stupid! The answer was right in front of him the entire time. Luke was taken by a CP0 operative. Whoever had been on the other end of that red transponder snail's call had to have been someone living in Mariejois. Where else would they go to report back? And since Shiroryuu was their ace in the hole, tracking him would be an exercise in futility. So they couldn't intercept them. The only choice remaining, the only viable option was to take Luke back at their final destination. And if they really, truly cared about her, then they had to try, or what kind of friends were they?

He whipped his head up, eyes wide but full of resolve as he grabbed Bonnie's shoulders and shook her.

"We need to raid Mariejois."

 **00000**

"So Thomas has been with Flint the longest." Ruka drawled on, counting out a fourth finger. "Apparently he used to be the chore boy in some fancy restaurant, but they threw him out for accidentally giving all the customers food poisoning when he poured the mop water into the soup. Daniel was caught by slave traders, but he's so clumsy that he accidentally set the extra stock of explosive collars off at once, getting all the baddies killed. Mathew's one of the few that was actually a hardened criminal, but he was never very good at it because he'd always feel bad for the folks he tried to rob and give them whatever he had. Over half the crew are all from the same out of the way little village. They were farmers who grew these special fruits that have this wierd juice doctors like to extract and use for anesthetic. But they weren't paid much and got caught eating the merchandise so they were fired..."

She went on and on, blabbering about her crew's personal histories as if it were A-class gossip. Dragon had never much cared for gossip, and only accepted it when it was forced on him. So he tried to tune her out by keeping his eyes on the horizon, now within sight as the forest had thinned. The two of them trudged through the mud, having to pull their feet free with every step. Dragon clenched his fists as he marched on, grumpy and glaring as the cacophony of crickets and slithering transponders snails filled his ears.

Ruka was walking on her own. He had started to carry her, until she beat on his head like a drum (proving she was the furthest thing from a doctor) and insisted on walking herself. He knew why she was doing it: to prevent his injury from getting any worse. But it honestly didn't bother him much. Aside from the spot of warmth and bruising pain, he hardly noticed it.

He gave her a passing glance. She seemed relatively relaxed, not to mention conversational. His explosive anger back there hadn't frightened her in the least, in fact he was fairly sure she was pleased. It was refreshing, he would admit that. No one had ever been more kind to him than she was being now. And even though the reality of their situation was still there, poking him in the back of his mind, he kept it at bay. He didn't want to think about it too much, even though he knew this couldn't last. She couldn't behave this way once they were around company. Granted, there was probably no one of great concern aboard that vessel. At most they were some low-rank navy sailors, come to do the grunt work their superiors considered themselves too good for.

And he could see it already, both of them could. A ways away, beyond the broken trees, on the open sea was the ship in question. It was unimpressive but in fairly good condition. Dragon could recall that it was Captain Yudai who was put in charge of this particular crew. Yudai, if Dragon recalled, was an average-at-best sailor. Not too observant, but reasonable and intelligent enough. He was well acquainted with Rear-Admiral Momonga as the two had trained together in their early marine days. But aside from that, he wasn't particularly special. Even so, Dragon had to keep an eye on him. He would no doubt be on edge having a CP0 operative on his ship, and a few of the Marines knew well enough to keep their ear to the ground. Sometimes, they overheard the whispers and rumors surrounding Shiroryuu. If Yudai was one of them, that wasn't helpful in the least.

After they were done here the crew was scheduled to sail for Paati Island, the last stop before Reverse Mountain. If Dragon could sail with them into the grand line then they'd be that much closer to reaching Mariejois. He had to lose Ruka before then.

They reached the edge of the forest, and he came to a stop to gaze over the shoreline. The sound of the waves crashing into the shore was like a lullaby. As he stood in the shadows of the forest, feeling the midday warmth and listening to the harmony of wind and sea he couldn't help but notice how painfully tired he was. Reluctantly, he leaned against the nearest tree without taking his eyes off the ship. Going by the direction it was sailing in, they would drop anchor about halfway down shore. In other words, they wouldn't see him until he revealed himself. That was good, he always did prefer it that way—

He collapsed against the trunk with a grunt of pain as Ruka came up behind him, seemingly oblivious as she continued describing her crew in detail. He risked looking at her, his face betraying him by appearing sympathetic. If only she had succeeded in running away, or better if she'd managed to kill him in that storm. No one would ever know what happened to him. There was even a chance, however slim, that the Gorosei would have assumed they'd killed each other in combat. He would be gone and she would be free to return to her crew under whatever name she preferred.

But no. She had to catch on. She had to spare his life and talk about heart and choices, as if she were encouraging some kind of revolt. Now she was happily going on and on about old friends as if she were trying to prove she hadn't forgotten them by choosing to follow Dragon onto this ship and it was just killing him on the inside. The thought that she was marching to her death, of her own free will just because she was under the delusion that he wasn't the monster everyone thought. And the way she looked at him, beaming encouraging smile and joyful eyes, as if she were patiently waiting for him to ask her for help. And she would do it, he knew she would, and he really didn't want to remember the last time someone looked at him like that because he did exactly as they said, just as he always did. What was he, a puppet on strings—

"So do you have any friends?" She blurted out cheerfully, and his mind went blank.

He snapped back to reality with a jolt, clutching the trunk until it cracked. He saw pictures flash before his eyes of younger days spent with a kind and stubborn boy, barely a year older than him yet always showing up just in the nick of time to stop Dragon from doing something stupid. Raggedy clothes and cap, knife clenched in his hand. The same knife he would later give away, the one Dragon had tucked away in a holster strapped to his lower back _at that very moment._

Ruka noticed his distress, flinching at the sight of his overshadowed eyes, grit teeth, and shaking shoulders. His fingers penetrated the wood, and blood trailed down his wrist. His mind didn't register the bodily pain though, as he was too focused on the internal anguish. He narrowed his eyes regretfully, not able to escape those memories as they flooded his mind and filled his heart.

 _"... A lifeless brat with a death wish and sick eyes that hate the world."_

What right did he have to say that? If Dragon was lifeless, then what did that make him?

He hunched over, trembling violently and gritting his teeth so hard they should have shattered apart. There was a light breeze, a rustle of movement, and instinct told him someone was rushing towards him.

His free hand went to Sazu's dagger as his eyes shot open, prepared to kill whatever threat had appeared. But all he saw was Ruka, having leaped through the air with her arms wide open and her steady gaze concentrated on him. He froze, taken aback even before her chest knocked into his. Her chin came to rest on his shoulder and her arms came up around his neck, leaving her feet hanging in the air.

Wide, shocked, grateful eyes stared ahead before slowly looking leftwards, but only able to see the back of her head. He gulped down the lump in his throat and blinked away as he pulled his fingers free of the bark and let his arms fall limp at his sides. Ruka gripped the back of his cloak and rested her eyes in the crook of his neck.

He couldn't help his uneven breath, or the fulfillment warming his heart, or his overjoyed and too-shocked gaze that borrowed into the ground. As far as he could remember, no one had ever held him. There were no reassuring shoulder squeezes or pats on the back or hands playfully messing up his hair. Only bruises, broken bones, fractured organs, twisted wrists and more. When he was younger, and could still feel the full blow of all the beatings he took, he'd cry from the pain and they'd toss him into a dark room for days. The only ones who would visit him the veteran agents, come to deliver dark, cold words and water laced with drugs that would cause horrible hallucinations and nightmares. And even once he was allowed to leave, he was immediately forced back into another training session, adding bruises on top of bruises.

The closest he came to ever receiving comfort was the time spent with Sazu. Fist bumps and high fives, arms hooked around his neck in a familiar hug. Sunny days spent running through the dark halls of Mariejois like they were a wonderland. Nights spent on the palace rooftop, stargazing and tossing rocks over the red line to watch them fall through the clouds. Mornings where the two boys would wake up in a mess of blankets, with Dragon always being the first one up thanks to Sazu's snoring which could fell walls.

But he didn't want to remember Sazu.

"It's okay." Ruka comforted, moving her hand up and down his back. "You don't have to talk about it. Just because it's painful... Doesn't mean you _have_ to talk about it."

Dragon sighed through his nose, unable to fathom such reassurance. Still, he accepted it, even as he could feel the ship getting closer. They were in the shadows, but just to be safe, he stumbled behind the tree and pressed his back against it before allowing his shaky, hesitant arms to ghost over her back and hug her close to him.

His head dropped, eyes resting on her shoulder as he tightened his arms around her. She was so warm. A soothing, sweet-smelling, comfortable warmth. Were all people this warm?

His thoughts strayed to Mariejois at that, and he knew. No, not all people were warm. But if there were other pirates like Ruka, then perhaps they weren't all the threat that the World Government believed them to be.

Holding her like this, he realized how small she was. So skinny and tiny, with toned muscles and choppy, straw-colored hair. That hair... The other women he'd seen had apparently spent much time fussing over their hair. The evidence was everywhere in the form of multiple brushes and combs full of loose strands, and expensive shampoos, conditioners, gels or creams. But Ruka's hair appeared to have suffered so much abuse. It was dry and thin in some areas, especially behind her ear where he could see traces of some old scar that hadn't quite faded.

A woman who spent her life as a man. What must that have been like, he wondered. To lie to yourself and everyone who cares about you every day for years. And for what purpose?

She was unique, he was certain of it. Young, strong, and kind. It was heartbreaking, just looking at her. She spoke of freedom the way others spoke of air. Like it was necessary, essential even. Beautiful and wonderful and impossible to live without. Words like that... He'd yearned for them. For years. And she'd given them to him, free of charge. It was... blissful.

If he succeeded in getting her to Mariejois, this blissful little bonfire would be snuffed out like a candle. She would vanish, in more ways than one. They would make her disappear, wipe away any proof of her existence as if she were never there. And he was helping them do it. Right now, as he selfishly kept her with him, he was helping them erase her.

"You could run, you know?" He said, and it was more a pleading suggestion than a question. "I'd turn a blind eye to it."

She hummed thoughtfully, and he could imagine her eyes filling with that same golden warmth from before.

"I will!" She piped up confidently. "But only if you come with me."

He sighed, despair and aggravation whisking away all the bliss from before.

"Why?!" He hissed, jerking his head for good measure.

"Because I want to." She said, matter-of-factly. "And I'm a pirate. We do whatever we please."

His eyes searched for answers, until he closed them after finding it to be futile.

"Why me?" He asked, wanting to understand.

"You're different from them." She stated, and he flinched in spite of himself. "I haven't met any more of you CP0 guys, but... You're different from them. I can tell, it's written all over your face. It's in your eyes. It's all you think about, isn't it?"

"...Yes." He answered, breathless and lost in despair. It was always there in the back of his mind. The other agents were trained by their parents and brought in when they were thirteen. Most of them never saw their families ever again, but it didn't bother them. They reveled in the work they did. They found it to be endlessly thrilling. All those they were sent to kill... Some deaths had to look clean, but others were free game. The latter died slowly, painfully and horrifically. Some didn't die but were taken underground to suffer every single day for the rest of their lives. And those people, _Dragon's_ colleagues, enjoyed it. Everything that had made Dragon's life bitter and dark, everything from his childhood days spent being beaten half to death to being sent to kill Ruka, they were all jealous of it.

Meanwhile, his own heart kept beating, and bleeding in a sense. He didn't want it, never wanted it. He wouldn't wish it on anyone else, but nonetheless. He really, truly, loathed the whole rotten lot of them. Cipher Pol "Aegis" 0, the World Nobles, the Gorosei, and the blind, brainwashed foot soldiers who never questioned their orders or saw the truth of the _cause_ they all served. The signs were everywhere, and yet not one of them saw or cared.

He felt her smile. "Yeah, I knew it. That's why I'm not leaving you. I can't, not everything that's happened. If you wanted me to keep running, then you should have been a better liar."

A half-hearted laugh escaped him. He had to argue against that. He'd spent half his life lying, he had to. If he hadn't put on a dark scowl and behaved like a proper monster then he wouldn't have lived this long. He hadn't hardened his heart as well as he thought he had, but maybe that was a good thing.

There was the sound of wood sliding over wet gravel and sand. Distant footsteps rushed, marching back and fourth on the deck, preparing the ramp and dropping the anchor. It landed with a dull splash. Incoherent voices shouted and responded, echoing through the air. Dragon only caught about half the words, but all conversation came to an abrupt end after he heard what he believed to be a door slamming open.

"How close are they?" He asked, his heart sinking. What was this dread he felt?

"Down shore." She replied bluntly. "They just dropped anchor. I don't think they can see us. Huh...?"

Dragon knit his brow at the confusion in her tone. No, it was more than that, it was... Perplexity. And just a tough of fear. Enough to send a chill down Dragon's back. He felt compelled to take a look, but his heart lurched at the thought, making him hesitate.

"What is it?" He asked, feeling anxious. "What's wrong?"

Ruka raised her head, craning her neck for a better look at whatever had caused her concern.

"That guys not one of them." She stated arguably, as if pressuring Dragon to turn around.

But he didn't. Instead, he just asked: "Who isn't?"

"Somebody... Wierd." She told him, as if that described the stranger perfectly. "He's not dressed like them. He just jumped off the ship! He keeps pacing up and down the shore, like he's looking for something."

In other words something, something that wasn't transponder snails. Something about that conclusion made Dragon's throat constrict. He felt something overwhelming, like gravity, only stronger and deadlier and it was bearing down on him, demanding he turn around _right now_ and take a good look at whoever it was that Ruka was so curious about. As if their lives depended on it. The most crucial, most important thing he could do at that moment was to just turn around. How could that be?!

"What does he look like?" Dragon asked, still fighting to keep himself from looking. "What rank?"

"Dunno, can't tell." Ruka replied. "I think he's strong though. Real strong."

"How could you know that?" Dragon asked, almost angry. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. Why did she have to say that?

"Gut feeling." She said with a pout. "Weird. I really don't think he's one of them. What's he looking for?"

 _Now, now, now. Turn around now. You must turn around right now and look at him, before he's out of sight. You must look. Look at him!_ Ordered a voice in his head, and Dragon bit into his cheek until it bled. He really didn't want to, but he guessed he had no choice.

"Let me take a look." Dragon said, pulling her arms free and setting her down in front of him.

He turned, peering around the tree. The ship had dropped anchor further away than he'd thought. He could just barely see the men coming ashore, led by their captain. Yudai trudged over to join his comrade, the first one of them to step foot on the island. As soon as Dragon saw the other man, the nameless man. He was hit with a strong sense of Jamais vu. Yes, something was very wrong here. This shouldn't be happening, this couldn't be possible.

That tall man... He was larger than Dragon. He wore a marine cap with the hood of his large, light-colored cloak pulled over his head. That cloak... Aside from the color, it was identical to Dragon's. Why did that bother him?

The strange man and Captain Yudai seemed to be conversing as they walked away from the men. Dragon ignored them and kept his eyes on the two superiors, seeing them hot in conversation. What were they saying? What was happening. It was almost as if they were arguing over something. Then Yudai threw an arm out, pointing at the ship and the other man stepped forward, towering over Yudai who couldn't help but retreat and cower a little.

Ah, so that's what it was. That other man wasn't supposed to join Yudai and his men on the island. He was supposed to wait on the ship until their mission was concluded. But why was that? Who was he, and why was he supposed to wait on the ship? And why had he jumped ashore in spite of those orders?

Then the stranger through his hood back, revealing his face. Hard set, square jaw with squinty, displeased eyes and cold grimace. His great stature and muscular build did indeed imply immense strength. That cloak kept most of him concealed, but Dragon could see the hint of a tattoo as well as a red collar.

 _No..._

He shoved away from the tree and stumbled back, holding his breath. Ruka saw it: the fear in his eyes and she ran forward, trying to take hold of his arm or hand. But he wrenched free of her and reatreated, tripping over a rock and catching himself before he could hit the ground. And he was never that clumsy, not ever, but he couldn't help himself right now because he wasn't breathing, and it hurt not to breath, and that meant this wasn't dream it was real and he was terrified.

"No...!" He gasped, running a hand up his face and forcing his hood back as he combed his fingers through his hair. "No, why? Why?!"

He couldn't be here. This was low-rank work. Chores! The sailors were here to collect snails, he would never come along for that sort of thing. He had to be here for a different reason, only that was impossible because the only possible reason was that he was looking for Dragon. But Dragon was here due to unpredictable inconveniences that the Gorosei would have kept hushed up. He _couldn't_ know that he was here.

But there he was, closer than he had been in almost decade. He glanced about, looking up and down the shore before turning and marching off into the forest. Yes, he was looking for him. Dragon felt it in his gut. His hand sought out hers, grasping it for dear life and that seemed to be the last straw with her. She put herself in front of him and pulled at his shirt collar, getting him to look at her.

"Dragon!" She yelled, desperate. "What's wrong?"

He clapped a hand over her mouth, ignoring her muffled gasp as he walked her back to the tree, pushing her up against it. He lowered himself to her eye level, letting all the terror and fury show clearly in his eyes and that silenced her. She relaxed, waiting expectantly for him to explain.

"Don't shout, just listen very carefully." He warned, breathless. "This is the most important thing you've ever heard. That man out there, the dangerous, suspicious one. You're right, he shouldn't be here but he is. And I think I know why. He's here for me and possibly you as well. So this is what you need to do: stay close to me. Not too close, but close enough that I can see you. I told you to run, but I'm sorry. That's not an option anymore, now you have to stay close. We're going to be on the same ship as him for at least three days, so stay close and do nothing to provoke him. You should know he doesn't fear the Celestial Dragons or the World Nobles and that's my fault but that's a different story. The point is, he won't care that you're with me. If you anger him in the slightest he will kill you where you stand. And I know. I know him better than anyone else does, so I promise you I know."

Ruka hummed under his hand, searching his face for answers. He was a little more relaxed now that he'd explained to her how careful she needed to be and hoped she understood. But it didn't appear as if she understood, so...

"I know, I really do know." He swore, shaking as he looked around the forest. They couldn't keep standing here, not when they were acting so familiar with each other. If he found them like this, he'd...

Ruka groaned, grabbing his wrist and yanking it down.

"How?" She asked in a demanding tone.

Dragon gulped, looking over both shoulders and back at her. Now was not the time to mince words. He needed to make her understand. So he took a deep breath and looked her in the eye, and whatever he looked like then must have scared her because she tensed in his grasp.

"Because... He's my best friend."

 **00000**

"Captain Yudai!" Hayashi, Yudai's right hand, came to salute his captain. "We've finished collecting the transponder snails! And the soldiers we left on ship just contacted us. The ship's ready to sail at any moment, sir."

"Very good." Yudai replied curtly, turning and cupping one hand around his mouth. "Men! We're heading back to our ship!"

"Yes sir!" The crew saluted and set about loading the insect carriers onto the fairly large wooden cart they'd brought on land.

The captive dendenmushi looked around their solitary cages in confusion, with some slithering up the walls or over the roof. One looked in the direction of the captain, eyes lighting up with moderate respect. Sparkles seemed to appear around the mollusks shell. His friends in the other carriers took notice of him and looked in the same direction. Soon, all the snails were wonder-struck by Yudai for reasons none of them really understood. Sadly, their joy was short lived. Beside Yudai was another man, wearing a cap and cloak and looking off into the woods as if he were going to set it on fire. His seething repulsion was a mystery. There was only an ordinary, mud-swamped and broken forest for as far as the eye could see.

The soldiers, Hayashi included, all stared at the transponder snails in blank confusion, glancing back and forth from the carriers to the captain.

Sensing he was being watched, Sakazuki glared spitefully back at the snails. The entire stock of them froze before disappearing into the shells, shaking in fear of the hostile marine.

"What are you all standing around for?" Yudai questioned with a tone of authority. "I gave you an order. Load the new cargo."

Hayashi nodded, still a little frazzled by the tiny occurrence as he waved the men back to the ship. A few soldiers grabbed the wooden cart handle and cautiously pulled it downhill. Yudai watched them for a moment before turning back to Sakazuki. Steaming eyes searched empty, dark woods and thin sunbeams desperately.

"Sir, please come with me." Yudai pleaded mildly. "The mission is finished. We need to get back to the ship."

"Not yet." Sakazuki snapped, clenching his fists.

Yudai sighed. "Sir, you were supposed to wait on the ship. You yourself claimed that you would. But you were the first one on land. Do you mind if I ask why?"

Sakazuki grit his teeth. Where did he even begin?

It was just a gut feeling. Like poison in the pit of his stomach. He first noticed it when they were discussing Paati Island back on the ship, and it didn't seem too important. But the closer they came to Eel Island Pass, the worse it got. So when they finally reached the shore line, he hopped off that ship and began a desperate search for the source of his uneasiness. Even though he didn't see anything but the obvious aftermath of a storm and some stupidly happy, easily impressed snails the feeling didn't go away. He didn't have any proof, but he could feel it. Someone was on this island. Someone strong, and important. Someone he might have... Missed. Or feared. Or hated. And he couldn't tell which one it was. But there was only one person who could make him feel that way.

And Sakazuki had given his most treasured possession to him.

 _Shiro, what happened?_

"I think there's someone on this island." He said in a grave tone. "Someone... Dangerous. The most dangerous man in the world. Brace yourself."

Yudai seemed to take this information with a grain of salt, but he nonetheless accepted it.

"Is he the enemy?" He asked sincerely.

Sakazuki burned at that question. How should he know?! That was the problem with Shiro! He no longer knew what he was. Or perhaps he never had. Maybe he'd just wanted it too badly. A rival at his back, who could be his comrade and his ally and his equal. When they were little, they'd spar plenty to pass the time. Neither one kept score, but things got pretty intense. Sometimes Sazu won, sometimes Shiro did. And back then, he hadn't cared much who won so long as they could push each other even a little further up in strength. There was also Shiro... A little running around always made him smile. And Shiro needed to smile and laugh more than anyone else he knew. Well, except perhaps that person.

But nowadays, things were different. They'd both grown to be stronger than anyone else and built names for themselves. Shiro was a force to be reckoned with. The stories surrounding him were... Grotesque. It was all in the name of justice. All sacrifices were necessary for peace! So Sakazuki wouldn't care less how brutal Shiro was, except that... Well, the boy he remembered... The one he'd thought he knew so well had too much heart to be an average marine let alone a CP0 operative. So he had his doubts that Shiro had grown to be a monster capable of killing over a thousand people (if the rumors were true).

A strong-willed, good-hearted man with insane strength who was raised by CP0 in Mariejois from the time he was a newborn and knew the workings of the World Government inside and out. Someone like that... If he didn't fight for justice, then...

"That's for him to decide." Sakazuki answered, making Yudai grunt in alarm.

No sooner had he said that did a shadow drop down from the sky. There was no whistle or boom in the air. The shadow just landed on his feet in front of him, sending off a mild chill that blew the leaves away and made Sakazuki's cloak rustle. It was as if the world decided to fall silent. Captain Yudai and Vice-Admiral Sakazuki looked up, watching the newcomer with wary eyes.

From where he'd landed in shadow, the man stood at the top of the hill while the other two stood at its back. Overhead, the cloud blocking the sun passed, and sunbeams illuminated the two marines. The tall, cloaked, black-booted man trudged forward, through a puddle to stare down at them patronizingly.

Sakazuki's teeth were on edge. He looked different. His eyes were cold, callous. He appeared to be every bit the violent killer he'd been raised to be. So why did he still feel uneasy...?

"I knew you were here..." He stated. "I knew it was you. Do you still have it?"

Without hesitation, Dragon reached around to his lower back and whipped out a dagger with a leather-wrapped handle. He held it out for Sakazuki to see, so it gleamed in the sunlight.

"Sir, who is that?" Yudai asked in a hushed tone.

"He's who people call 'Shiroryuu.'" Sakazuki answered, feeling Yudai tense behind him. "Don't bother whispering. He'll hear you anyway."

"What does he want with us?" Yudai asked.

Shiro sheathed the dagger in a flash, raising his head.

"I want you to take me to your ship." Shiro answered in a commanding tone. "My companion should already be there."

A bead of sweat made its way down Yudai's brow. "What do you plan to do on my ship?"

Shiro laughed through his nose, smirking.

"Hitch a free ride."

 **00000**

 **Yaaay. How many of you liked the looooong hug? I liked it. Again, baby steps. They tried to kill each other when they first met, people.**

 **There's also Flint and Bonnie in this chapter. I don't like writing about them being sick with worry over Ruka when she isn't making any effort to get back to them. It makes Ruka seem just a little bit... Lax. Also selfish. But all will be resolved! Mostly everything anyway. Ahhh, spoilers.**

 **The next chapter starts off with Ruka and Dragon being stuck on a ship with Sakazuki. They'll also hopefully reach Paati Island.**


	12. Chapter 11: Fate and Memories

**Alright! This chapter is the start of the fun little Paati Island Advent. Don't worry, it shouldn't take more than one-two chapters, not including this one, to get through it all. But a lot happens on this island, like I said before. Only now do I realize how awkward "Paati" sounds. Just so you know, paati is the Japanese pronunciation of the english word party. I actually wanted to name this island "Oomatsuri" but it was already taken. You guys should really watch movie 6, if you haven't already. Beware though, it isn't for the faint at heart.  
**

 **Keep calm and read on. (And review)**

 **00000**

A World Of Difference

Chapter 11: Fate and Memories

"Four hours." Yudai stated as Sakazuki marched over to join him at the ships bow. "That's how long until we reach Paati."

 _"Wonderful."_ Sakazuki grumbled. He clacked his teeth and crossed his arms, sighing through his nose as he shook his head at the horizn. The sunset stared back at him, dusk air and brilliant orange contrasting with periwinkle blue. Birds soared overhead, ignorant to the tension that hung heavy over the naval vessel.

It was possible he was envious.

Yudai swept his gaze over the deck. Sakazuki knew that it was empty. He'd stalked past it after storming out of the dining hall, which could be found around the corner from the captains quarters. He was also aware that their only company was the watcher in the crows nest about thirty feet in the air. He was preoccupied, trying to shield himself from the bitter cold by cowering under a stack of blankets.

 _"So..._ Shiroryuu has occupied Hayashi's room." Yudai pointed out. Sakazuki's gaze shifted to him questioningly before returning to the horizon. "My lieutenant will be bunking with you, if that's alright."

"That's... _fine."_ Sakazuki muttered with a shrug.

Yudai hummed knowingly at him, cast another sweeping gaze over the ship, and returned his attention to his superior.

"Do you recall what happened before?" He inquired, quirking his eyebrows. "After we brought him on board?"

 _"Of course_ I do." He retorted. What was he trying to say? That he was stupid, and everyone else was Vegapunk? Ridiculous.

After Dragon stepped onto the deck, all Hell broke loose. At first, the sailors simply stared at Dragon, and Sakazuki wondered what exactly they had thought. The dark clothes and the stench of blood were a good hint towards the danger he presented, but of course his mask was a dead give away. At the sight of it, everyone shrieked like frightened little girls. Their cargo was thrown into the air, everyone running about like cockroaches.

Even though Sakazuki noticed this, he hardly cared. He kept his gaze firmly focused on Shiro. He saw everything. He saw how the boy he used to play with had grown into a man. He saw how Shiro stood above them, like he knew everything. Voices crowded his mind and the deaths of thousands reflected in his eyes. They cursed him and reached out with rotting fingers, wanting to pull him down to the depths of Hell. And he just stood there, uncaring. Without shame. Strong, confident, and possessing a will that could reduce all the pirates in all the world into a lot of sniveling infants.

Sakazuki found it... Thrilling. Exhilarating, even. And if it were just Shiro, then that would have been all the reassurance he needed. But...

There she was, lazing about in a lawn chair and spitting priceless wine overboard. His so-called "companion." She was unfazed by the chaos on deck, and when she wasn't spitting for distance she was tearing pages out of some book and folding the paper into origami cranes. Her face was oddly familiar, but she appeared to be a civilian. A stupid one, going by her disregard for rare books and fine alcohol.

A stupid civilian should not have been a threat. But the notion of CP0 agents requiring companions was blasphemous. Perhaps it was the very idea of her, but she made him uneasy. Not nearly as much as Dragon, but enough so that even with his gut telling him to keep an eye on Dragon he was unable to stop himself from glancing at her.

There was a moment where their eyes met, and Sakazuki felt like he'd lost his footing. Her eyes... even though her expression was blank, her eyes were challenging him.

He sneered as those eyes flashed through his mind, burned into his memory.

"Even as my men made a mockery of themselves," Yudai began quietly, "And I struggled to regain control, Shiroryuu just... stared on. He wasn't concerned with any of us. Or you. Or even... That woman. He just gazed off into the distance, as if he were looking backward instead of forward. And you... You were giving him such cross stares."

"What are you driving at?" Sakazuki demanded, tetchy and jittery. "Spit it out!"

"You know him." Yudai asserted practically. "Not the way we do. We've heard rumors and stories. But you... You know him personally."

Sakazuki turned on him, looking as if he were about to hit him. Yudai took his anger composedly, never faltering. In the face of a reasonable, level-headed person Sakazuki's anger burned away until he was left feeling overemotional and foolish. He straightened up, crossing his arms to grip his elbows and shaking his head, letting a little of the abashment show. Yudai softened without losing the brazen look in his eyes. He blinked quietly at Sakazuki, jaw shifting.

"I won't force you to discuss it."He assured, faintly. "But with _all due respect_ to the Celestial Dragons and the Gorosei, their ace in the hole... He gives off bad vibes. And... I believe you feel the same, sir."

Sakazuki squinted at the horizon. Yudai seemed to be implying he was aware of Sakazuki 's suspicions. He didn't really feel compelled to discuss them with anyone, no matter the rank. But Yudai didn't seem to be the overly-dramatic sort. No matter what was said, he wouldn't lose his head and shout. There was no risk they would be overheard.

"Are you familiar with my father?" Sakazuki queried.

Yudai jolted, taken aback. He shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms behind his back and clearing his throat. There was glowing respect in his eyes at the mere mention of the deceased vice-admiral, a sight that made Sakazuki sick to his stomach. He had to clamp his teeth together to keep from spitting in disgust.

"Everyone is." Yudai answered at last, awed even as he struggled to remain composed. "He's an inspiration to us all, even now. The unofficial right hand of the old Fleet-Admiral. Such unfathomable power, the likes of which is only seen once every century. The men he trained all rose to the rank of captain or higher. He was truly the pride of the navy in his time."

"I hated him." Sakazuki barked, jarring Yudai awake. "The proud sailor the Marines remember was just a facade. His real colors were shown only at home. In truth, he was..." Sakazuki trailed off, gnashing his teeth together, "...Quite bitter. He pushed me to study and train since the time I could crawl. If I couldn't memorize or master whatever he threw at me in the first five seconds I was... punished."

Yudai gulped, bruised heart and suppressed sympathy bleeding through. When he finally spoke, he did not mince words:

"You were beaten."

"Frequently" Sakazuki added. "And without mercy. Sometimes, he would starve me or lock me out until I learned everything properly. Of course, there were others in the house. They tried to defend me, but... they were no match for him."

Yudai nodded, still shaken by the news even as curiosity got the better of him. "With all due respect, sir, what does any of this have to do with Shiroryuu?"

Sakazuki's head dropped, and he eyed the horizon as the sound of waves hitting the ship filled his ears. He took a deep breath.

"My father was... Close with the Gorosei as well as the Donquixotes." Sakazuki paused to laugh bitterly. "They got along famously. They were so close that they would allow my father into Mariejois once every six months so they could meet. He would force me to come along, for reasons I still don't fully comprehend. It was a long trip, but I eventually became more willing to make it. Eager even."

"Why?" Yudai inquired.

Sakazuki faced him, some sadness reflecting in his otherwise stoic eyes.

"I met someone in Mariejois." He stated, recalling the incident in flashes. "On my very first trip, not five minutes after we reached the palace. My father left with one of the Gorosei and Donquixote, and I walked through the grounds. When I was passing through the inner gardens, I came across a small group of people. Two young men had ganged up on a boy about a year younger than I. They were stomping and kicking him with enough force to crack the ground. There was blood, hair and teeth everywhere, all belonging to the younger boy. He... He wasn't fighting back. He'd curled up and I knew... he was just waiting for it to end. They were too strong for him, so he was just... Waiting."

"Is that what you used to do?" Yudai uttered closely.

Sakazuki nodded firmly, eyes squuezed shut.

"Did you fight them?" Yudai inquired, almost knowingly.

He shook his head. "No. That would have been suicide. I tricked them into turning on a young slave girl, and they switched to her. Then I grabbed the boy and ran. Once we were far enough away, he tried to stand up and walk, but he just ended up on the ground. When I got too close, he jumped away from me like I was planning to kill him. Then he just broke down crying. I couldn't do anything but wait for him to calm down. Once he did, I asked him his name. Would you like to take a guess as to what he said?"

Yudai hummed thoughtfully, frowning at the deck as he ground the heel of his shoe into the wood. All too soon, he stilled, unsurprised even as realization dawned on him.

"Shiroryuu." He breathed out, looking swiftly up.

"Correct."

"What happened after that?" Yudai queried.

"We kept meeting." He replied with a shrug. "Every time I visited with my father, I would go find him. We only visited once every six months, but sometimes we would stay for days at a time. My father never came looking for me until it was time to leave, so I would bunk with Shiro. We never slept in his room. At first, I would wonder why, but after I saw the look on his face when he got too close to the door, I knew. He was terrified..."

Yudai's gaze flickered over the deck boards and he let out a long sigh.

"You keep calling him Shiro." He pointed out, surprising Sakazuki a bit. "Did he call you anything?"

Sakazuki relaxed at the memory. "...Sazu. He called me Sazu. He was only four when we met. 'Sakazuki' was too hard to say, so he shortened it. His name wasn't too difficult for me, but I wanted us to be on equal ground. So I shortened his too."

"Four-years-old..." Yudai whispered in astonishment and disgust. "How long has he been with them?"

"Forever." Sakazuki answered. "The CP0 operatives of old times found him and took him in. It wasn't a kindness, they just knew he had potential even when he was an infant. They kept him. Trained him. His lessons were worse than mine, because he had three teachers to please, and they held nothing back. There were times when I would visit, and find him in his room. I would know even before I opened the door something was horribly wrong. Then I would see him, all curled into a ball in his bed and hiding under the blanket, sobbing. The room would stink of blood so much you'd think there was a fresh corpse in it. I would panic immediately, throw the blankets off him, and then... He'd be so badly beaten I wouldn't even recognize him. I'd ask his name, just to confirm."

Yudai grimaced, finally understanding. They were both beaten into near-lifeless rag-dolls from the time they were toddlers. They both had high expectations of them, and of course there was no escaping their fate. But, Sazu had seen Shiro's situation as being worse than his own. So...

"You were very close weren't you?" He asked grievously.

"We were friends." Sakazuki admitted. "More than that, he... He was like a little brother to me. I wanted to protect him, and I might have tried harder if I didn't know the truth."

 _"Truth?_ There's more?" Yudai asked, as if rejecting the revelation.

"Much more." Sakazuki muttered, clenching his fists. "Shiro doesn't know... And if anyone asks, neither do you. I'm not supposed to know either, I just happened to hear my father talking with the Gorosei and Donquixote."

Sakazuki clutched his elbows until they cracked. That particular memory was more unwanted than the rest of them. Save for the parting of their ways...

"What did you _hear,_ sir?" Yudai asked, evidently aware how grave the news was.

Sakazuki glowered at the horizon. The light was almost completely gone now. Light, hope, warmth. It all vanished in time.

"When Shiro was..." Sakazuki hesitated, pinching his nose bridge and dragging his hand down his face. Even now, it was hard to believe and nearly impossible to share. He took a deep breath and finished in a hurry: "When he was a baby he nearly destroyed an entire country."

Yudai recoiled in a shock, stumbling before catching himself. He felt around for his heart, patting it lightly three times before pounding on it with his fist. If he'd been lost before, he was now caught in a maze. Sakazuki ordered him to breath, and watched the younger captain's mouth open wide, inhaling the most air possible. Finally, Yudai had returned to reality. He opened and shut his mouth repeatedly, trying to find the words that anyone's common sense would tell them. Sakazuki didn't blame him. Even as a child, it had taken him weeks to come to terms with what he'd heard.

Yudai whipped his head up. "Sir, that's—!"

"Impossible." Sakazuki agreed strongly. "I know. But there's no way they were lying. They were frightened. They were terrified that some five-year-old boy who was beaten within an inch of his life on a daily basis would kill them all."

"Sir... This is...!" Yudai waved his hands about, as if trying to pull something solid out of thin air. "This is... Crazy...!"

"The whole rotten lot of them were crazy." He reminded him. "But again, they were being honest. Their fear of Dragon led them to treat him worse than all the rest. So many times, he should've died. But he survived. Still, he must have believed he would die at some point, because he attempted to escape so many times even his mentors lost count. Each time, after they found him, the punishment would get worse. Once, they broke his arm. Another time, he was submerged in seething water for minutes at a time. Sometimes the wounds were so bad they had to call Vegapunk to get him properly patched up or else he would have been bedridden for months."

Yudai looked a little sick, and Sakazuki thought he saw his legs shaking. Still, as a naval captain he was capable of keeping his wits about him in the worst of times. A quick shudder, and he was back to looking his superior in the eye.

"What did you do?" He asked, faintly and politely.

"I told him to stop running." Sakazuki confessed. "I warned him. I said he had to be there, or he would hurt someone. I told him the truth... That I was unafraid, and he... Smiled. He believed every word I said, and... He did as I asked of him. Even though he hated Mariejois, he decided to stay."

"Sir... You act as if you regret it." Yudai indicated.

Sakazuki adjusted his cap, pinching it. "Perhaps it was wrong. To force him to stay in some place he didn't want to be. Still, we must maintain the world order. However..."

"Yes?" Yudai urged.

"It is because he was in Mariejois..." Sakazuki recalled, his eyes gleaming. "That we are now at odds with each other."

 **00000**

Dragon was lying on the floor of the Vice-Admirals bedroom with his arms and legs spread out. Haunted eyes stared up at the roof as his heart sank and rose with alternating waves of dismay and joy. Frantic fingers drummed lightly over or tapped the floor, while the rest of his body remained numb, attempting to compensate for the endless amount of worrying and predicting going on in his head.

In the daze of all this mad-thinking, Ruka's face swung down in front of his. Gleeful grin and sparkling eyes brought him to the surface of his ocean of worry, but all an outsider would have seen was an empty gaze and stoic frown with Ruka leaning over him, their noses mere centimeters apart, light laughter almost like wind chimes in his ears.

After a few moments of grinning at him and soliciting no comical response, she yielded, pouting as she propped her elbows up to rest her chin in her hands. She huffed out a hot, disappointed sigh.

"You're no fun!" She muttered.

Dragon leaned his head back, looking at her upside down. She seemed better now, after they'd both received some proper medical care. Dragon hadn't planned on allowing the doctors of any Navy ship to examine him, but with Sazu right over his shoulder watching his every move he didn't have much choice. He couldn't allow him to learn of his intentions regarding Ruka.

"Soooo..." She drawled on, and Dragon blinked expectantly at her. "How come we're a sharing room?" She then moved her hands, curling her fingers to rest her jaw on her fists and spoke again in a whisper: "I thought you said I'm supposed to keep my distance?"

He leaned his head further back so his chin jutted up and spoke in a low, monotone voice. "It's fine to talk normally. I've checked this room for any surveillance transponder snails, and there aren't any. As for your question... Well, I'm not leaving you alone with them. I've told them you're my companion, so it's alright to stay close to me. So long as you aren't too friendly."

"Define friendly." She requested, looking troubled as she leaned to rest her head more on her left hand. "That so-called friend of yours wasn't being very nice. He was glaring at you the entire time... Like you kicked his puppy or something."

"Sazu doesn't like animals." Dragon blurted out in a low voice.

Ruka's eyes widened a bit at his words. "'Sazu?'"

Dragon winced. He shouldn't have said that.

"You have a nickname for him!" Ruka exclaimed, placing her hands on the ground and leaning over him again. "Sazu, huh? Sounds too cute."

Dragon chuckled dryly, faltering before his face fell.

"Are you guys really friends?" She questioned, skeptical. "You really don't act like it."

Dragon saw her draw an invisible circle on the floor with her finger. He reached up to brush his fingers under the tips of her hair, and smiled. He was certain it was a weak, heart-wrenching thing, but all the same sincere.

"Look at you." He said, eyes zig-zagging up and down her face. "Strong and weak and kind and angry all at once. A woman, playing the part of a man her whole life. Marked for death, yet you're alive. You're none of the things you're supposed to be."

Ruka tilted her head. "What's wrong with that?"

"You're impossible." Dragon said, both elated and saddened as he let his hand fall.

Ruka hummed thoughtfully, pursing her lips as the imaginary circles she drew turned into spirals.

Dragon gripped his shirt, feeling anxiety flood his stomach like polluted water from a busted pipe. He curled his lips, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again, gaze shifting for before focusing on Ruka. She looked back at him. Curious. Expecting. Accepting.

"I had a friend _before."_ He whispered, wistful as he folded his forearm over his eyes. "He was... Stubborn. Blunt. A huge pain in the neck. But he was in the habit of showing up at the worst times. We ran together, and I thought those days would never end. But..."

He felt a flash of hot anger burn his insides. His expression turned angry and he was vaguely aware of Ruka jolting above him.

"Things changed." He settled, rolling onto his side to hide his face. "He changed. He became someone... I didn't recognize anymore. But.. But even now, I can still see just the smallest trace of what he used to be. Of who I used to be, when I was with him. And it scares me. But I can't let it go, because that's all I have. Our impossible, doomed friendship." He locked eyes with Ruka. "Kind of like the one I have now."

Ruka glared at him. "Don't compare me to him."

"I'm not." Dragon promised. "You and him are nothing alike. I only mean... The _situation_ feels the same."

Ruka forgave him instantly, but her eyes lingered on him before flickering away. He caught a hint of something gleaming in her gaze. It set his teeth on edge and made his heart clench. But just as he started to ponder over it, she spoke up.

"I don't really get it." She admitted, brow knit. "But he's not really your friend, is he? I mean, he didn't even try to rescue you."

Dragon looked at her doubtfully. "You expect a lot of friends."

"What are you saying?" She demanded. "Real friends need to be willing to do at least that much."

"Then what about yours?" Dragon challenged. "Would they do that for you? If you're taken to Mariejois, will they raid the place to get you back?"

Ruka stiffened, eyes slowly widening as she paled. It was hard to tell if she were only just realizing how far they would go, or if she were just shocked Dragon would ask. She placed a hand over her heart, curling her fingers to grip her shirt.

"I... Yeah, probably." She confessed, looking so frightened he hardly recognized her.

Dragon squinted at her, blinked, sighing heavily.

"Don't worry." He said, sliding his hands back to push himself up. "They'll have transponder snails on Paati, ones that aren't being used by the world government. I might be able to use them to find out where your crew is. The navy tries to keep track of all the pirates they can. If he's been making any kind of noise, they'll have some idea of his location. I can leave a trail for him to find you."

"I won't go."

A chill blew through Dragon, like haki, only more subtle. Ruka's voice... She sounded so cold, so distant and resolute. He half-turned, feeling nauseous as soon as she came into focus. Her gaze was so sharp, fiery even. She resembled the "man" he'd first met, only it was different now. Luke Read had fought _for_ his life. Ruka seemed to be implying the opposite.

"What are you saying?" He asked pleadingly.

She looked right at him, pushing herself back to sit on her knees.

"I won't go." She repeated, lacing her fingers together and stretching her arms out. "I said so before. I won't run unless you come with me."

Dragon's breath caught in his chest, and he held it there. She couldn't be serious. She couldn't actually be putting her life on the line for him, someone she'd known for days when her crew would turn the whole world upside down to find her. That was stupid! Not to mention selfish. She couldn't be...

And yet she was. The way she looked at him, so matter-of-factly, as if there was absolutely nothing he could say to convince her to run from him.

"No..." The word escaped him, as he shook his head. "No, Ruka. Just no."

She glared at him again. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Quit joking around!" He hissed, close to panicking.

That was the wrong thing to say. She shot him a look of such rage he thought she might attack him.

"I'm _not_ joking." She enunciated. "Don't underestimate me. When I say I'll do something, I will."

"They will kill you." Dragon reminded her, tone full of dread. "As soon as they're done talking, you're dead."

Ruka smirked weakly. "Yeah...? Maybe. Who knows? Maybe I'll take care of them first."

Dragon shot to his feet. "That's suicide. You... You'll die. You really will die!"

"So will you." She said, locking eyes with him. She got to her feet to brush the dirt off her clothes. "As soon as I'm gone, they'll send you off to take care of somebody else, and you won't kill them either."

Dragon opened his mouth to deny it, but froze as his lurching heart seemed to agree with her. She was possibly correct. He was afraid to find out.

Ruka shook her head. "It's a gut-feeling. You've been listening to me. So I'm telling you now: I won't let you go back there. And if you do go, I'm coming with you."

Dragon looked away from her. He could feel so much anger, and fear, and protectiveness. And she could see it, but all she did was stand there, looking so prepared and so ready for the worst. Just the very thought of her dying for him, hurt so much he couldn't breath.

She gripped the hem of her shirt and smiled happily up at him.

"It'll all work out in the end!" She promised, even as her hands shook.

Dragon leaned his head back, unable to breath. He was fully aware of how CP0 treated their prisoners even if she wasn't. As for how they treated their traitors, he had only a clear idea. After all, no one had ever betrayed Cipher Pol.

 **00000**

Some hours later, after a short "rest" of tossing and turning, Dragon's ears ran with cries of "Island ahead! Island ahead!"

He lay on his side at the edge of the large bed, head resting on his forearm. Blinking tiredly, he eyed the floor, then the desk at the other side of the room, followed by the small window directly over the desk. Water droplets bombarded the glass as the waves rocked the ship. Stars hung in the sky, silhouetting the moon, illuminating the dark indigo night.

The shouting woke the rest of the crew, as he could hear their boots climbing stairs and marching across deck. A chorus of cheers and whistles broke out, and Dragon had to wonder what they were so excited about.

 _Ah._ He thought dully. _It's me. They're hoping to get rid of me._

Of course. They were just as nervous of him being here as he was. Too bad making landfall was only a temporary solution. According to the records, this was the only navy ship visiting Paati this month. Naturally, he'd have to board again later, once they finished their business here and the ship was ready to sail again.

Yes, he'd have to ride this ship into the Grand Line with Sazu watching his every move. And Ruka would be right there, scared for herself but brave for him as she quietly moved forward on the path towards her own gruesome demise.

Dragon gripped the sheets and squeezed his eyes shut. He truly loathed the way his mind worked. So morbidly honest.

He rolled over onto his other side, stopping when he could see Ruka on the far side. She was sleeping relatively peacefully and quietly, also lying on her side as she hugged the pillow under her head. He squinted at her, noting the position in which she slept. Had she been copying him? Had she fallen asleep staring at his back, watching as he tossed and turned endlessly.

He breathed deeply, and reached out to her. Three times he hesitated, stopping and pulling back, only to reach out again. Calloused, gloved fingers ghosted over straw-colored hair. It took another deep breath for him to relax his hand, resting it over her head. When she didn't move, he let his hand slide over her ear, lightly cupping it.

Low, even breaths escaped from the small "o" formed by her lips. Her hair still felt rough, like sandpaper, but so warm. She radiated warmth.

The thought of that warmth going cold compelled him to loop his arm around her and yank her up into a tight hug. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood to keep from doing so.

There was no way he could let her die. No matter what, he wasn't taking her with him when he returned to Mariejois. Yes, the consequences would be life-threatening but he would survive it. He didn't care about himself right now, anyway. Just this once he couldn't let them have their way. There were several questions which came up when he tried to plan out a strategy for her escape. Like where would she go, and what would she be? She'd lied for so long, and now that she was being honest, could she really return to lying and deceiving others after all that had happened? Most importantly, how could she live? Once the Gorosei realized Dragon had let her escape, they'd send another CP0 operative after her while Dragon was kept preoccupied by torture. Ruka would only survive them once.

He had to make them believe she was dead without bringing her head back. He had to cut her loose, make it to where she wouldn't come after him. She wouldn't leave of her own accord even if he put Flint Rackham right in front of her. But there was still _one_ other option...

Just as his heart filled with trepidation, there was a knock at the door.

He turned slowly, reluctantly taking his eyes off Ruka to watch the door. The knock came again, only louder.

He glared, already knowing who it was as he climbed out of bed. He ignored the third knock as he made up his side of the bed and went to the desk, silently pulling the chair out and opening the second log book halfway, leaving it there with a pen resting over the binding. In a fraction of a second he was at the door, opening it fully.

Sazu was there, looking worse for wear. Dragon vaguely noticed they were the same height now, with Sazu only appearing taller thanks to the cap and raised hood.

His arms were folded over his chest and his jaw was hard set. His eyes were bloodshot, implying he hadn't slept either, and he looked as if he couldn't have been having a worse early-start.

"Morning." He greeted in an icy tone .

Dragon nodded silently as he mentally chanted: _Don't look at her. Don't look at her._

"We're near the island." Sazu told him, implying there was something more than just a random report here.

Dragon waited expectantly. Sazu continued: "Were you planning to go into town?"

Dragon blinked, looking away thoughtfully. Between protecting Ruka and watching Sazu he hadn't paid it much thought. There was no real reason for him to go, but he got the feeling Sazu was asking for a word. Or possibly a brawl. Or both.

He stepped out of the room, keeping his back to the door as he closed it. He thought he heard Ruka stir just before the door clicked shut. As he locked eyes with Sazu, a silent understanding passed between them. At least while they had company, they would play nice. But if they ended up alone, things could escalate.

"Prepare to weigh anchor!" Yudai ordered.

 **00000**

It took another ten minutes for the ship to port, after which they dropped anchor and positioned the ramp. As soon as it was in place, Sazu and Dragon walked briskly through the crowd of men blocking the exit and began trudging down the ramp.

"Where are you two going?" Yudai questioned, an inkling of worry escaping him.

Dragon ignored him as they proceeded to disembark.

"Mind your own business, Captain." Sazu ordered dismissively as they trudged along the boardwalk, leaving the ship and crew behind them.

The port was built over a rocky shore, with some mangroves sticking out of the water. Behind the shore was a low cliff face with clay mixed in with the soil, and along its edge were the first buildings and homes a newcomer could see of the small village. Everything was constructed of some tough green oak, almost mossy in its color, with dirt and gravel roads. Outside the homes, the same sky-blue flowers hung in home window sills while the shops all had wordless signs with symbols hanging over the open doorways.

He followed Sazu out of port, into town. There were young adults and middle-aged folk running fruit and vegetable stands. Children played marbles or "Pirates and Marines" in the street, or kicked balls back and forth. Lovers walked arm and arm, holding each other. Everyone had the same silver crescent moon painted over their left cheek. Dragon wondered where they'd gotten it until he spotted a small booth set up in one of the wide alley ways, where a puny old granny with a grey bun and purple shawl was painting another silver crescent on a baby's cheek while his mother held him.

He frowned at that, thinking deeply. Sazu looked over his shoulder at him, noticing the confusion.

"Apparently its for the festival." He said, earning Dragon's begrudging attention. "Yudai and Hayashi were talking about it earlier. The crescent moon means they're having another Psychics Festival tonight. They have one at least five times a week."

Dragon made a face at that. Didn't they have anything else to do? This town wasn't known for much besides its parties, but surely there had to be a limit. What did they do about crops or fresh water? What about farming, and fishing, and tailoring? Didn't they have jobs? What kept this place alive if all anyone did was celebrate?

"They earn so much money from the Psychics," Sazu began in a cool tone, "That they hardly need to work at all. They use their funds to buy all that they need from traders. As far as ordinary villages go, this one's fairly wealthy."

Dragon arched an eyebrow at him. Did he just... Read him? Like an open book? That was problematic, he'd have to be more careful.

"Never mind that." Sazu commanded, and Dragon had half a mind to try kicking his legs out from under him. "Why aren't you wearing your mask, Shiroryuu?"

It was as if the wind had carried the name around. All around them, citizens reacted, with the young ones shuddering as their elders jolted. More than half looked about, slowly or frantically, until they reluctantly relaxed and returned to their individual tasks with a lot less cheer.

"Are you trying to avoid attracting attention to yourself?" Sazu questioned, sounding fairly confident in his accusation. "Or are you just avoiding the possibility that you might have to kill one of these people?"

Dragon looked around nonchalantly, pretending not pay the children or their parents any notice. Sazu kicked up dirt at a cat that blocked his way, and it went scampering off.

"You have to speak to me, Shiro." Sazu whispered urgently. "We may rank differently, but our strength remains the same."

"Do you want to bet on that?" Dragon challenged, hand inching towards the knife strapped to his back.

Sazu froze at the sound of his voice, half-turning. He looked... Stupefied, to say the least. Dragon came to a stop too, and for the longest moment of either of their lives they just stared at each other. Sizing the other up, trying to determine strengths and weaknesses. Dragon kept his thoughts away from Ruka, as he couldn't allow himself to resemble anything kind. As for Sazu, he seemed to be trying fairly hard to hide whatever his own weakness was.

Both could feel peoples eyes on them. They'd stalked lifelessly and silently through this town like ghosts, but now that they were standing still people noticed them. The young boys were especially fascinated by Sazu, a vice-admiral. As for Dragon, they were keeping their distance from him. As for the ones brave enough to try to come close, their parents scooped them up and carried them inside, locking the doors behind them.

Sazu watched the villagers leave before looking back at Dragon, seeming relatively conflicted.

"Not here." He whispered. Dragon nodded and looked around, spotting an empty alley just down the street.

He strode past Sazu, leading the way through festive children and falling confetti. He ducked inside the alley, as if he were one with the shadows of the world, and headed for the end. It was somewhat narrow, but he could easily escape if he had to.

 _It won't come to that._

Sazu followed in after him, and they held their silence until they reached the end. Dragon placed a hand on the back wall and turned fully to face him. Sazu came to a halt and looked him over, narrowing his eyes with some not-so-well-hidden rage.

"You should _watch_ what you say around people." He warned, tone heavy and intolerant. "You attract too much attention."

"That's my line." Sazu all but snapped. "Walking around in that cloak when its ninety degrees out. You're far more suspicious than me—"

"Bite your tongue." Dragon ordered, leaving no room for argument. Sazu inhaled, keeping the breath locked inside of him. "I have an identity to protect, what's your excuse?"

"No one heard me." He argued.

"Yes. They. Did." Dragon countered, remembering the reactions. "Don't use that moniker while we're surrounded by so many villagers. If anyone here was on my hit list, you would have just given them a warning."

"None of them are, are they?" Sazu inquired, digging for info.

"Silence." Dragon slid his arm down the wall to rest his back against it.

Sazu _was_ silent, for a good two minutes as he stared, hard and cold, at Dragon who met him eye for eye unflinchingly.

"Shiro," He said, and Dragon was surprised by the calmness that overwhelmed him at the sound of his childhood name, "What are you doing here? Who is that woman?"

"That's none of your concern." Dragon replied curtly. "I'm on orders from the Gorosei. That's all you get to know."

Sazu sighed haughtily, clamping his teeth together, gnashing them.

"You shared a bed with her." He said with much concern, as if this was the gravest offense to the World Government since Roger.

Dragon knit his brow in disbelief, looking at Sazu almost laughingly.

"You slept in the presence of another." Sazu accused, sounding ticked. "That implies trust—"

"Trust is for fools." Dragon stated, ignoring Ruka's voice in the back of his head. "I needn't fear her, as I'm already aware that she fears me."

"Then why did she share a bed with you?" Sazu questioned, knowingly. "She could have slept on the floor, or chosen to stay up. But no, she was in that bed of her own free will. From the way she was positioned, I'd say she was watching you—"

"Enough." Dragon commanded, tilting his head provokingly. "I know what you're getting at, and frankly I'm surprised. You honestly believe the Gorosei would play matchmaker?"

Sazu faltered, and Dragon knew he'd played a good hand.

"She is my current assignment." Dragon continued conversationally. "You know how we operate. I am not sharing information with you when its strictly need-to-know. Now I advise you to keep your nose out of other peoples business, or else someone might break it."

Dragon pushed off the wall with his heel and stalked swiftly past Sazu, heading back to the world of happy, ignorant people. Just as he neared the world of light, Sazu whirled, speaking again.

"Why did you cover it up?" He asked, accusingly, and Dragon stopped. "It took you four seconds to reach that door when it should only have taken you two. You made the bed, set up the desk to make it look like you'd been up all night. But you didn't try to lie when I told you I knew you'd shared a bed with her."

Dragon sighed in aggravation. He knew Sazu would be hard too fool, but to think he'd go so far...

"Interrogating a Cipher Pol operative," He began, looking over his shoulder, "Is against the law, Sazu."

"So is lying to a Vice-Admiral." He countered coolly.

"You're hopeless. If you're so curious, why don't you ask them yourself?"

He regretted the words almost instantly, but he had no choice. He needed to make Sazu believe he was just following orders, that Ruka was just an assignment, nothing more. If Sazu kept analyzing their behavior like this, and they slipped up again he'd go to the Gorosei anyway to report Dragon.

Moments passed, and Sazu appeared stumped. He didn't seem too keen on going to the Gorosei. Dragon antagonized him further by arching an eyebrow at him questioning his resolve and all suspicions. Sazu glared back.

"If you aren't suspicious enough to go to the Gorosei," Dragon turned his back to him, "Then you're wasting my time."

He headed back to the street.

"Where are you going?" He barked.

"Out. Being cramped up on Yudai's little ship drives me crazy."

That was a lie, mostly. But if he returned now, Sazu might think it would be for Ruka.

As soon as he left the alley, he turned right, proceeding forward into town. As he moved, he thought he saw something in the corner of his eye. Something hidden in plain sight between two fruit stands overshadowed by a large patio awning. A too-dark patch of night, standing there as plain as day and yet completely overlooked by everyone but Dragon. Yet when he turned to face it, it was gone, leaving nothing but empty space in its wake which was quickly filled by some young boys fighting with wooden swords.

His stomach churned at familiar old memories, and without hesitating, he turned and walked away, almost forgetting what had drawn his attention in the first place.

 **00000**

Garp chuckled at the tiny island. Even before they left the Calm Belt, the whole crew had been able to hear the music and see the festival lights contrasting against the night sky. Now, as they were mere minutes away from pulling the ship into port, he could plainly see why they called it Paati.

It really was an endless festival here, all lit up with lanterns and kids playing in the streets. The port was nearly full, with trade ships and passenger vessels almost keeping them from dropping anchor. However, clever Bogard was able to find an open spot, and the crew moved quickly to bring ship into port.

As soon as they could, a good deal of them rushed off to explore the island, with Bogard and Kuzan staring at them in disapproval. Before anyone else could leave, Bogard stopped them and ordered them to clean the ship. A long chorus of disappointed sighs broke out and the men dragged their feet on the way to grab the supplies.

"Hahaha, you're cruel." Kuzan chuckled with a smirk.

"They can't all run off to play or this ship will come to ruin." Bogard reminded him before he turned on Garp. "And really, sir, you're the one who should be telling them this."

"Too uptight!" Garp blurted out proudly.

Bogard was embarassed on his behalf, meanwhile Kuzan simply chuckled.

"You're so cool, Garp-san." He praised, earning a cross look from Bogard.

"Don't start!" He warned, and returned his attention to Garp. "What are we even doing here, sir? We're supposed to be looking for Flint Rackham and his crew. I really doubt they're here!"

"Would you quit complaining?!" Garp bellowed, losing his temper. "I like adventures as much as the rest of the crew, but I take my job seriously. Places like this are almost always crawling with pirates. Besides, West Blue folk can be pretty superstitious. Odds are, Flint will show up here to look for whatever CP0 guy he's after. Then we catch him and the rest of his crew."

Bogard had the grace to look ashamed. "Apologies, Vice-Admiral. Where should we start?"

Garp raised his fist in excitement. "The festival! It's already happening right? Then lets goooo!"

Bogard whirled in outrage. "You are here to mess around!"

"Calm down, his plan has merit!" Kuzan said, clapping a hand on Bogard's shoulder. "Let's just go see if we can't find any news about Flint."

Bogard put his eyes in his hands, sighing in exasperation as Garp jumped off the ship and landed right on the edge of town. The people screamed at the sight of him and backed away. He ignored them, punching his palm as he eyed the little village.

"Okaaay!" He said. "Time to find some lousy pirates!"

 **00000**

 **There you have it! Garp, Kuzan, Sakazuki, Dragon, and Ruka are all on the same island. But who will run into who and what will be the consequences?**

 **I'll try to have the next chapter up ASAP.**


	13. Chapter 12:Anomalies and Grannies

**Sorry for the long wait guys. I really wanted this chapter to be good, so I kept rewriting the sections and tying out new scenarios to see what fit and what didn't.**

 **Now this chapters set up in a way that might make it a little hard to understand, so I'll try to explain it simply and concisely. There are five parts, with Dragon being the focus of the first, Ruka the second, and so on. Parts 1 and 2 happen in that order, but parts three and four occur at the same time, and part five happens ten minutes after the events of parts three and four. I hope that makes sense to all of you.**

 **Again I don't own one piece.**

 **Please enjoy the chapter.**

 **00000**

A World Of Difference

Chapter 12: Anomalies and Grannies

"Hey, old man," Dragon prodded the weary, all-wrinkles fruit merchant, "I thought there was supposed to be a festival. Where is it?"

Fruit-geezer slumped back in his mossy-colored rocking chair, a periwinkle blanket thrown over his knobby knees. Resembling a hairy raisin with monocles, he turned an overripe apple in his shaky clutches, one which he slowly raised. It took all his strength, brittle bones rattling in elephant skin, a strangled groan ghosting from cracked lips. Once the apple was offered, Dragon recoiled in disgust, It reeked of vermin. He was just about to turn and leave when a young man's voice called out:

"Oh, sorry! Gramps is kinda senile."

Dragon pivoted, finding a young man, approximately mid-twenties, holding a yellow wicker basket full of oranges on his waist. He wore yellow rubber gloves and a blue apron over dark green overalls and boots. He welcomed Dragon with a warm smile and winning emerald eyes.

"You asked about the festival?" He inquired, setting the basket on a bare stool behind the fruit stand. Dragon nodded in reply. The youth sheepishly scratched his stubble. "Sorry, it's all been moved indoors. There was a mass prediction of sudden rain, but that won't stop the elders from raking in the dough."

Dragon's eyebrows perked up. He moved to stand directly across from the youth. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

The youth appeared taken aback, but chuckled. "Sure. My name's Ryuuji, by the way. You must be one of our guests."

"Something like that." Dragon conceded, proceeding with keen interest. "These psychics of yours, where do they get their power? Are they devil fruit users?"

Ryuuji's shoulders squared, his head ducked, and he chuckled under his breath. "Well, they're certainly freaks of nature but they didn't eat any devil fruits. We do have a few fruit users here visiting though, former marines or travelers."

Dragon's eyes glinted. He was acutely aware that "travelers" meant "pirates."

"Why? Are you looking for some psychic-power-gifting devil fruit?" Ryuuji jested.

"But if it's not devil fruits, what allows them to see the future?" Dragon pressured.

Ryuuji hummed, cupping his chin. "That's a difficult question. No one knows, really. But I heard that back when Gramps was a kid, there was this _massive_ earthquake. Minutes later, all the kids started screaming about a tsunami, and those that believed them followed them up to higher ground. The gifting of predictions improved our society. Weather, crops, pirate raids, navy inspections and so on. They were dead right, every time! But unfortunately…" Ryuuji's awe twisted into grim seriousness. "A lot of the kids lost their abilities or were stolen by slave traders. The ones that didn't lose their abilities got gradually better at predicting the future, until people started making a business out of it."

Dragon folded his arms, pinched his chin. _"Curious..._ Is he one of them?"

Dragon regarded Ryuuji's Grandfather with fleeting fascination.

"Gramps?" Ryuuji asked, incredulous. "He used to be. He lost the gift on his fifteenth birthday. Been all knots and grumbles ever since."

"I see..." Dragon trailed off, his expression blank. That was some ambiguous vocabulary there: _gifting, the gift._ Ryuuji spoke of devil fruits and strange phenomena as if they were acts of God.

"You said the festival is indoors." Dragon spoke, intrigued. "Where exactly?"

Ryuuji smirked, stifling a light chuckle. Leaning over the stand, he pointed at a store window across the street. Dragon swiveled, discovering a large crescent moon tag slapped over the inside pane.

"Look for that symbol in the windows." Ryuuji instructed. "It means they're offering readings."

Dragon promptly thanked Ryuuji, striding off with plans of delving further into the mystery of the town when Ryuu shouted: "Oh, wait!"

Dragon whirled, eyebrow arched. "Yes?"

"Are you planning on staying the night here?" Ryuuji asked, eyes popped.

"It's still early..." Dragon noted, rolling his eyes in contemplation. "Probably not."

"Well if you change your mind, go to the inn at town square." Ryuuji raised his arm, pointing eastward. "They give great discounts to government folk."

Dragon's arms jerked in his sleeves, but his fists and muscles clenched in protest. Unexpected, sudden sensitivities overwhelmed him, but his mind dominated his heart and thus he found self-control in the logic of the situation: Ryuuji was innocent, they were surrounded by innocents, he had an identity to protect, etc.

"How did you know I work for the government?" He demanded, his voice like acid, his eyes frigid.

Ryuu caught himself, jaw dropping and closing as he furrowed his brow in deep though. He appeared to be oblivious to Dragon's bone-chilling glare.

"Ah..." He trailed, stumped. "I don't know. Lucky guess? Sure you didn't mention it?"

"No, I didn't." Dragon retorted, and marched off.

He maneuvered through a dense horde on his toes. Little girls squealed as they chased a chicken that ran under him. Dragon side-stepped another throng of children, eyeing them indignantly. A rain splashed over the tip of his nose, drawing his attention to the sky. Ominous, smoke-colored cumulonimbus clouds leered down at him. They'd been a nice shade of iron half an hour earlier…

Dragon shifted to the left, felt his shoulder jarred when a passer-by bumped him—"Sorry, sorry."—but kept his attention firmly focused on the sky. Their "mass prediction" was correct. He should've noticed sooner. What had led driven him to stop at Ryuuji's anyway?

TIInnng…

Oh, right. There'd been… Something in the corner of his eyes. A cloud, or shadow. He had to have imagined it, because no matter where he looked nothing was—

 _"Florentria."_

Dragon stiffened, inhaling sharply. A chilling breath trailed the nape of his neck. "TIIInnng" chimed a bell in his hindmost memory. Dragon felt chilled to the bone, eyes widening in horror at the sound. It was back again: that lurking shadow, tucked away in the corner of his eye. A too large shadow, far too huge for a man but too small for a fully-grown giant. Perhaps a bear. A bear in a long, black cloak...

 _"Oliver Levi…"_ Breathed a disembodied voice. The name reverberated in Dragon's ear, making him choke on a shaken gasp.

Electricity prickled in the back of his throat, jolting Dragon awake. He reeled, long dark cloak flying up behind him, nearly breaking his neck as he searched desperately. He swiveled in one spot, trying to focus, but his ears were filled with the disheartening sound of laughing children.

He caught sight of his reflection in a shop window. Eyes wild, breathing foggy and frantic.

He clacked his teeth together, taking a deep breath. His fingers uncurled, his chin dipped, and his legs carried him lifelessly to the curtained window, where he pressed his forehead over the glass. Remarkably, no one seemed to notice his mild panic attack.

A sweaty hand rubbed his throat, felt his forehead. A hoarse whisper escaped him, repeating the name from earlier thrice more. He struggled to wrap his mind around it, coiling and melting and recoiling sloppily around the scorching hot name and all that it meant to him.

Someone (or something) twice his size had blown by him like a leaf on the wind. A whispered name, one Dragon knew. How could he forget?

But why did they—it—know? Why appear now? They—he, going by the timbre of the voice—hadn't sounded vengeful. Or even accusing. He actually sounded… Was it possible? Dare he believe they were… Sympathetic? Did they possess some self-diagnosed level of understanding, one which would ultimately earn them a spot on CP0s hit list?

Dragon imagined shattering the shop window. His shaking arms locked at his side, trembling fingers curling into fists until his fingernails cut through his gloves and then his skin. What should he do if they were here to help? He had enough on his plate as it was with just Ruka.

Would he show himself again in a public place? Dragon didn't know. He needed to find somewhere secluded, where he could be certain no one would eavesdrop on them.

Dragon's eyes—squeezed shut until now—slowly opened as if he were waking from a restless sleep of night terrors. There was one place he was certain was the only guaranteed private and isolated spot on this whole island.

Hadn't Ryuu mentioned a hotel especially generous to government men?

 **00000**

 _ **Moments after Dragon's conversation with the fruit merchant...**_

Ruka stomped down the street in such a mad rage, her footsteps should've left cracked boot-prints in their wake. She was like a thundercloud, riding a gale wind through town, causing previously cheerful villagers to freeze and jump away in fear. Their eyes followed her, settling on her back and pulling their heads forward so they were all leaning over as they watched her in wariness and confusion.

Dragon was gone. She'd awoken that morning to find the space he'd occupied hours earlier—empty. In a millisecond, she'd recalled everything he'd said about Flint, Bonnie, her crew, and how she should run for her life. She scrambled off that bed, crashed to the floor, launched to her feet and stumbled to the door. She'd lashed out to clutch the door knob as if it would flee, freezing when she remembered Dragon's warnings: _"Don't be friendly. Don't show concern. Don't defend me."_ She took a deep breath, keeping his words at the forefront of her mind as she stepped out. The marines didn't even notice her leave, save for their captain who gave Ruka a condescending look of disbelief as she tip-toed down the ramp. As soon as she was on the boardwalk and out of their sight, she took off in great leaps.

Stupid Dragon! How could he just leave her there, with that rotten lot? What was so important he had to do it at the crack of dawn?

Could he really be contacting Flint? Was her captain headed here right now? But no, Dragon would be leading them right to the Marines! But maybe that was the point, so Yudai and the others could be witnesses. But—Ahhh! All this speculating was giving her a headache!

She paused in the middle of the street, gritting her teeth as she massaged her temples with her knuckles. She groaned in dismay, letting her arms fall and staring down the street.

It was packed with ordinary people. They were all running about, carrying sparklers, shooting off party crackers, and firing water pistols. Some stood in lines outside homes and buildings in anticipation.

The boom of a thunderclap resounded, making Ruka jump. She leaned her head back, eyes widening with dread.

The sky was split in two. Ruka stood directly below the wispy intersection of crimson, tangerine dawn and onyx thunder clouds bursting with lightning. The former was steadily being consumed by the latter as gusts of angry, bitter wind drove the storm westward.

Ruka shuddered. For some reason, a stinging, piercing itch in her heart spoke of something truly amiss. Never one to doubt her instincts, she looked around at the townsfolk in wonder. How could they be pouncing about as if all was right with the world?!

"A storm is coming." Said a gruff voice from below.

Ruka looked down, finding an old frog-faced, pruny little old granny barely tall enough to reach her knees standing directly beside her.

Ruka's eyes bugged out, screwing her face up at Granny. Her gray skin, speckled with age spots and prickled with ghostly white body hair, clung to her bones in crinkled folds. Her round face stared up at the sky, fat little chin contorted by frowning disapproval as she leaned on a small bird-beaked black cane with both hands. She shook, be it from exhaustion or the cold breeze blowing through town. Her clothes were just as ancient as she was: a deep purple shawl wrapped around her head and resting over her shoulders and a peacock dress decorated with a string of tassels and cheap beaded jewelry. She wore sunglasses. In the early morning. When the sky was mostly pitch black.

Ruka pouted at Granny, perplexed if not annoyed. "What do you mean? The storms already here."

"Not quite. Not yet." Granny insisted with a firm nod.

"Are you blind?" Ruka turned in a huff, waving her hands at the sky. "The _storm_ is _here._ It's right above our heads! You're _looking_ at it!"

"Oh, not quite." Granny said with a sideways nod, lifting her cane and waving it at the sky. "I'm looking in the general direction—up! But I speak of another storm, child. Besides, the one you refer to hasn't won just yet. There's still a little light left."

Ruka's back twitched, and she coughed as she bit back a curse word. Granny directed a sour, antagonizing grin her way.

"What has you so upset, girl?" She asked, giggling/coughing.

Ruka trembled furiously, then waved her hand dismissively. "Forget it. I don't have time for this! I have to find Dragon!"

She turned on the spot, taking a step before her shirt snagged on what felt like a branch. But she knew better, and when she checked, there was the old granny clinging to her with brittle fingers as she gaped in awe. Ruka pulled harshly at her shirt, trying to wrench it free.

"Who..." Granny choked out, pausing to gulp. "Who... Who did you say?"

"Dragon." Ruka replied curtly. "I've got to find him, before he..."

She trailed off, groaning. Contacting Flint, returning to Mariejois, leaving her behind. All of it frightened her. What he'd done on Eel Island Pass, baiting her into his attempted murder, rocked her to the core. He seemed to underestimate the value of his own life...

"Before he returns to that place without hope." Granny whispered in anguish, bucking Ruka out of her brief meditation. Granny's grip loosened as her head bowed and her tone grew increasingly grim. "That palace of light in the clouds, casting the shadow of impending doom over the world..."

Ruka whirled. She was talking about—! But how could she know? Oh!

"Are you a psychic, Granny?" Ruka asked calmly as she crouched.

Granny held her face, hopeful, miserable, and horror-stricken all at once.

"Seventy-two years." She uttered, eyes shaking with torment. "I waited seventy-two years for this. Ohhh," She sobbed tearlessly, "Where have you been all this time, girl? Keeping an old woman waiting! How rude!"

She bonked Ruka over the head with her cane, making her eyes bug-out in pain. Ruka's hands launched to massage her new sore spot. A moan of pain later, her eyes snapped open in a glare.

"That hurt! What's your problem, old prune frog?!" She demanded, softening when she took a good look at Granny.

She glared at her haughtily, even as tears streamed from her eyes, trailing flushed cheeks to form great puddles at her feet. She gripped her cane and the tip punctured the soil.

"Sevety-two years, and _now_ you show up!" Granny scolded, as if Ruka were late for an important appointment. "But I guess I should be grateful you came in time for us to meet."

"What are you talking about?" Ruka asked, massaging her skull. "Are you senile, frog prune?"

"THAT ISN'T MY NAME!" Granny snapped, leaning on her tiptoes to bellow in Ruka's face. "You're such a rude girl! Where are your manners? Behave like a proper adult! Who do you think you are, speaking to your elders like this?!"

Ruka got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips proudly. "I'm twenty-two!"

"Well don't talk as if it's some grand accomplishment, reaching twenty two years!" Granny snapped, pompous.

"HUH?" Ruka replied, lofty. "Whatever. I gotta go, froggy prune—"

She moved to leave again and Granny launched herself at her leg, clinging to it as if to prevent someone from dragging her to her grave.

"No, don't leave!" She screeched pleadingly. "I'm sorry!"

Ruka turned on her, ready to kick her off. There was some high-and-mighty old frog prune keeping her from Dragon. First with the pulling, now grabbing. And she was getting snot on her leg! Gross!

"Get off me! I've got things to do!" Ruka ordered, trying to wave her off.

"Please stay! Let me give you a reading!" She begged.

Reading? Ruka recoiled in disgust.

"I never read anything!" Ruka informed her, reaching down to grab her shoulders.

"Wait, please! I'll treat you to anything you like!" Granny promised. "Just stay!"

Ruka mellowed out at once, her hands clapping together joyfully as her face lit up.

"Really?!" She cheered, eyes sparkling.

Granny jerked her head up in surprise. "Just like that?!"

 **00000**

 ** _While Ruka was talking to Granny, Dragon was…_**

Dragon kindly thanked the Inn Manager (who seemed all too anxious to get rid of him), threw the fee on the counter and stalked off, rounding the bend and taking the stairs three at a time.

He'd been well-reassured by aforementioned manager that this particular room wasn't one which customers—Marines and Naval officers—typically slept in. Rather it was more of a counseling chamber, for meetings, private calls, and jokingly used by the maids as a place of gossip. So naturally it was without any surveillance transponder snails, and the surrounding walls (save for the paper door entrance) were unfailingly sound proof. More so, it was the only room on the third floor.

He'd shirked off the discount and even given extra, having sternly implied that his brief presence in the Manager's inn was to remain confidential. The middle-aged, beefy, spectacled man had nodded wordlessly, and Dragon knew he'd instilled enough fear to gain a fair amount of silence, if not a complete one.

He brushed his gloved fingers up the wall as he reached the height of the stairs. For an establishment frequented by government officers, the place was quite homely. The lighting was dim, the architecture meek, the building material humble. He supposed the privacy and the banners with the character for "justice" painted on in elegant brush strokes made up for that.

The final step creaked, earning a passing glance from Dragon as he moved to the pair of sliding paper doors.

He threw the doors open, feasting his eyes upon the traditionally-styled meeting room. Perfectly symmetrical, with tatami-matted floor and three long tables all lined up. A stack of seat cushions in each corner and some small standing cabinets on opposite walls were some other features the room provided, along with a large bottle of fine sake and a few stacks of Sakazuki cups.

Dragon's tranquil eyes lingered on the cups for a moment before sliding the door shut behind him.

His arms felt like they were filled with saw dust and caked in melted wax. Fingers twitching and blood pounding in his head, Dragon took a deep breath and folded his arms over his chest. The room was well lit, and spacious even with the table. So why did he feel as if he were a ten-year-old again, tossed in his room after another failed escape attempt and a savage beating?

No, that didn't matter. He had pressing matters to attend to. He needed to confront this stranger who was stalking him. Later, a maid would bring him the transponder snail he'd requested at the front desk. Then there was the matter of tracking down Ruka, as he had the most horrible feeling she'd left the ship.

 _I won't go._

Dragon rolled his head back, forward, grit his teeth as he rocked his head forward twice for good measure. Ruka's words were not forgotten. They rang in his head like a bong, scattering his thoughts and making him question his motives. But she didn't deserve to die, and in his opinion that weighed more than any internal conflict he possessed. However, if she truly rejected safety…

He gripped his forearms hard enough to bruise them. Should he... Use _it?_ She would never, ever forgive him, should he fail. Even if he succeeded, that wasn't much better. Besides, this wasn't exactly what it was meant for. What if she suffered some sort of trauma, just because he decided to take a risky chance?

His gaze swept over the empty room, and he felt the itch of impatience. It drove him to the seat cushions, where he acquired one and carried it back to the center of the table's long side. Dropping it like a bean bag chair, Dragon took a seat and crossed his legs Indian-style. He rested his heavy forearms and clenched fists on the table. Then, subtly, he took a breath and gazed across the table at empty air.

"I know you hear me." He began, placid tone masking anxiety. "I know you're there, somewhere close by, listening to everything say. Watching everything I do. Maybe you're hiding in the corner of my eye again…" He trailed off as his gaze slowly shifted left. "Or maybe you're above me…" He tilted his head back, shaking eyes boring holes in the ceiling.

He waited, but all he heard was a sort of static whistling that descended into a sharp ringing, followed by a sudden kitchen-bell ding. His content expression contrasted with a hint of amusement in his eyes and hostile pull at the corner of his mouth.

"Now that I think about it…" Dragon stated, tilting his head to the side and looking forlorn, "I've had the feeling someone has been watching me for a while now. Not just since I started this current assignment, but always. Even in Mariejois. Even when I was alone in my room…"

That horrid mirror, which was eternally bolted to his bedroom wall...

"The mirror…" He said with a tone of light, stunned realization. "None of the other operatives have mirrors in their rooms. That's how you watch me, isn't it? Like a one-way mirror but with some kind of telecommunication device…"

There was no answer, and that was just as good as any. Dragon's teeth clamped together as his eyes overshadowed and his tightly clenched fists slowly unfurled.

"So that's it." He said in a dead voice, seeing red. "You know… I've always hated that mirror. I tried smashing it, but it always seemed to repair itself."

The silence continued. Dragon gnashed his teeth together and shut his eyes.

"Even if you don't say anything, it's useless." He informed, hostility creeping into his tone. "I'm not stupid. They knew that too, that's why they always kept me on a short leash. They'd beat me until my organs ruptured and my bones cracked. So I stayed quiet, but not stupid.

"Keep your silence if you like." Dragon spat bitterly. "I have a rough idea of who you're _not_ , in any case. You don't work for the Gorosei, or the Tenryuubito or anyone else high up. Otherwise you'd have told them to kill me by now. You're not someone I've angered, going by how you've been watching me, not ambushing me and _you're_ not an idiot either. So why don't you just show yourself? Or at least tell me your name."

There was a disturbance, like salt in the air, and Dragon's chest lightened for reasons he couldn't explain. It brought his head up, forced his eyes open.

Luckily enough (if it were any sort of luck) there was someone standing at the opposite side of table across from him. The same man from before. Tall, bulky physique, long dark cloak that kept all other features hidden. He almost looked like one of the phantoms who'd attacked Dragon and Ruka on Eel Island Pass.

At that thought, Dragon rose and peered over to check. Yes, the man had feet. Large, long black shoes with rounded toes poked out from beneath the cloak.

He glanced up at the man, who pinched the top of his hood as he remained hunched over the table so he could fit in the room. Dragon wasn't comfortable with not being able to see his eyes or face or other readable features. It was… Perturbing.

"I'm sorry." Were the man's first words. His voice and tone made up for his otherwise complete anonymity. His tone, for one, had changed since earlier when he'd stated some information with a small measure of sympathy. Now he was… Sincerely ashamed.

That didn't serve to calm Dragon in the least. He leaned his head back, nostrils flaring, eyes blazing.

"For what?" He spoke through not so-well-suppressed ire.

"The mirror." He admitted, and rage scraped at the inside of Dragon's throat like cracked, bleeding talons. "He needed some means of… Checking in on you. So he made them believe it was necessary."

"And who is he?" Dragon asked, raising and lowering his shoulders as he shook his head at the cloaked anomaly. "I take it you work for him?"

Did he just tense? Dragon wondered. He appeared still as a statue. Dragon's feet shifted, knees bending barely. His fingers twitched, urging him to grab his knife. He stuffed his hand in his pocket.

"Well?" He prompted impatiently, eyebrows jerking.

"It's… Complex…" The man offered, a clear attempt to placate Dragon. "I don't want to upset you. I have to insist you stay calm…"

"Don't tell me what to do." Dragon snapped, brow furrowed. "I'm not blind, or deaf, or stupid. Continue beating around the bush like this and I promise I will lose whatever calm you're so desperate for me to keep."

"But there is so much you don't know." The man explained, trying to reason. "I'm not entirely sure where to start. It's complicated…"

"Then simplify it!" Dragon spat, taking a step forward.

Another, shorter silence followed Dragon's order. The man was hesitating. Dragon could smell perspiration. Clearly, what he had to say would serve only to inflame Dragon's acrimony, not appease him.

"He is…" He started, stopped, and cleared his throat. "He is… The one who led _them_ to you."

Immediately, he knew who _they_ were. The news crashed down on him like a bomb. It felt so real, he'd thought the reality had collapsed.

His shock was brief. Then, Dragon's slit-narrow eyes shot open as his gnashed together with such force they should've shattered apart. The whites of his eyes turned an angry, violent red. Before he knew it, he'd catapulted over the table with his arms outstretched, intent on strangling the anomaly.

He no novice, though, and in the blink of an eye he was up and across the room in no time.

Dragon crashed to his feet and raced around to the head of the table, pulling his fist back as the man, kneeling, put one hand up in surrender. Whether it was an act of defense or meant as a calming gesture, Dragon didn't care. He was going to hit the man with all his strength, knock his jaw loose.

"He's alive!" The man blurted, desperate.

That registered in time for Dragon to skid to a halt. He remained frozen mid-punch, and shaking. His anger had not dissipated. But it was like the volume had been turned down…

"Who is?" He questioned, eagerly, angrily. Why did he care?

The anomaly inhaled through his nose. He didn't move his great trash-bin lid sized, gloved hand, with its spread fingers.

"Your father." He breathed out in admittance. "Your father is still alive."

Dragon squinted, arms lowering slowly. His guard was still up, but his anger was now thrown by bafflement. He looked down at the man, now skeptical of everything he'd said.

"Liar." He accused, firmly. The man sighed, bowing his head and dropping his hand. "I don't have a family. Or a home."

"No…" The man shook his head, sighed again, looked up. "I know that's what they drilled it into you. I know they punished you when you asked. But they lied. You were never the only victim in this equation."

Dragon recoiled in disgust at the word "victim."

"I am not a victim." He said defensively. "I was—"

"Abducted." The man interceded, and Dragon tensed. He hated that word. It was worse than "victim" which made his stomach churn. This second word, abducted, was far worse.

It was as if… The ground was ripped out from under his feet. Like colors had drained away from the world, leaving everything frozen in monochrome. Sound vanished. Everything was just… So frighteningly still and hauntingly quiet that it burrowed into his body, seeped into his bones and organs, and drowned his heart.

He was appalled by the sheer notion of it, and he was pretty sure a dry, empty chuckle had escaped him. Then his throat was full and hot, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. He stumbled back, fighting waves of nausea and struggling to make petrified, saw-dust filled limbs just MOVE. But his ankles hit the low table, and he fell back to sit on the edge.

Very slowly, he was becoming overwhelmed by the sheer horror of it. His mind raced to find some meaning, some understanding as to why he felt the way he did. But it was failing, everything was. He could feel his body becoming weightier by the minute and his mind rejected everything—everything—until it was as if he had just left his body completely.

Something must have happened, because the anomaly rose to his feet, half in a panic. He was calling out to Dragon, but it sounded as if he were yelling from the end of a long, loooong tunnel. And Dragon wasn't sure he could stomach anything else he had to say.

But the man reached out, trying to grab Dragon's shoulder. It was unlikely he meant harm, but Dragon's mind screamed _danger,_ zapping him awake as if he'd been electrocuted. He drew his dagger, threw his arm out to point it at him, all while keeping his head bowed and eyes wide open from shock.

The stranger reluctantly flexed his fingers, lowered his arms. He seemed to soften where he stood, and that was enough to get Dragon to blink his eyes a few times and gaze up at him imploringly.

"Abducted…" He muttered, half-accepting. He didn't lower the knife.

"...Yes…" The man said gently and nodded.

"Why?" Dragon asked, and this time there was no anger, or devastation, just… Curiosity.

Where was the point in taking a child? Who and what was he that they would stoop to such drastic measures? And why make him kill people? Or had they just been putting him to what they believed was "good use"?

Dragon placed his free hand over his eye, clawing at his forehead as his palm sank into his socket. In the span of three seconds, he managed to silently ask the same questions half-a-billion times. Why…? Why him, why them? Why now? Just… Why?

His arm dropped and the knife slipped from his grasp, hitting the floor with a dull _clup_.

In the midst of his anguish, an embittered voice escaped him.

"So I have your boss to blame for all this?" He asked in a gruff voice, hair hanging in his face.

He waited for the man to defend his so-called "benefactor." To excuse him, and take the blame. He expected apologies and explanations and blunt insecurities. Why wouldn't the stranger be upset, and storm out, leaving Dragon to his misery?

But none of that happened. Instead, the stranger let out a heavy-hearted sigh, one which was so full of regret and shame it would have made a normal, sane person crumble away. And when he spoke, it was in a brittle, breathless voice.

"Yes…" He nodded sadly. "You do."

"Why?" Dragon hissed, pressing fists over his eyes and curled over his knees.

"He didn't… Mean to." The man said, but Dragon felt the words were void of comfort. "It wasn't his intention to be the trigger of all this suffering. Only… He believed he was directing them to an enemy, a threat, or a weapon. He didn't know you were a just a _baby."_

He nearly choked on the last word.

Dragon ground his jaw with such force it felt as if they were eroding away. His fingers twitched in his fists, cut off from blood flow and urgent to run themselves through his hair. But if he allowed that, they'd pull it all out. No, he needed to stay still. Yes, there was the pain and the rage and murderous urge to slaughter everyone up in Mariejois, but what truly caught his attention was…

His father. He couldn't forget those words. His father was alive. What little he'd been told about his home and family, how they were decimated and lost, was somehow forgetful. A past he couldn't remember and a home he couldn't return to never held much of an impact. But… If his father was alive, why not his mother, or his home? Where were they, what were they doing? What did they believe had become of them?

That last thought made him nauseous.

"My family…" Dragon wondered aloud, blissful and terrified at once. "Ruka said… She said I must have had family somewhere. She said they'd be devastated if they could see me now. She said the World Government lied to me… Oh God, she was right...!"

"Dragon." The man called urgently, and Dragon whipped his head up attentively. "I know this is a shock for you, and you have questions. But I need you to answer me. What is it that you want?"

Dragon jerked his head back in surprise. All that he had ever desired flashed before his eyes, but at the forefront of his mind was…

"My father… My home…?" He said in a haunted whisper.

"Focus—" The man insisted, but Dragon wasn't listening. He pushed to his feet, questions on the tip of his tongue and heart bursting with unfulfilled, impossible dreams.

"Where are they?" Dragon asked, his voice taut. "What were they told?"

The man put up both hands in a "calm down" gesture. "You can't go to them. If the Gorosei learn you've been there, they'll know you learned the truth. They'll have them knocked off for real this time—"

"I know that!" Dragon snapped, squaring his shoulders. The tension in his back was killing him. Now that he was this close to answers, he could barely contain himself. "You came here to deliver the truth. So answer me. _Please…"_

His plea seemed to strike a chord with the man, whose shifted uncomfortably. Dragon stepped forward, feeling as if he were about to leap off a cliff. Maybe he should stop him. If hearing this would throw him that much… No! He had to know what they were keeping from him.

"Your father is… Well, he's here actually." He answered, issuing a sharp intake of breath from Dragon. "Arrived on the island earlier."

"Unbelievable…" Dragon muttered, in spite of himself. What were the chances?

"He's here on business." The man said, as if warning Dragon. "He came here with his men, to find a certain pirate. He's—"

The man stopped abruptly, and Dragon knew why. Footsteps. His gaze zeroed in on the door, pulling him to his feet. He sprinted, sliding the door open just in time to find a maid stopped there, her hand outstretched. She was supporting a large, round and wooden serving tray with a transponder snail, a spiral call-list, and a steaming cup of tea. Dragon plucked it off the tray, slamming the door shut. The maid "Eeeped!" in a shrill little voice, but he ignored her and spun on his heel to face his guest.

But the room was empty. He'd gone in much the same way he'd arrived: as if instantaneously.

Dragon gasped and rushed to the spot where the man had stood, kneeling to search under the table, even though the space was far too thin. He sat up, gave the table's surface a pat down. His eyes searched the air in an arc. Finding nothing, Dragon cursed under his breath and pounded his fist on the table.

In his free hand was the transponder snail. He slipped it into the inside pocket of his cloak and got to his feet, dismayed. His eyes found the ceiling once. The mossy green oak tiles had dragons carved into them, some of which had their jaws open in a breath of fire.

Dragon's face dawned with realization. He believed he'd found the anomaly's means of entering and leaving the room. He checked for silhouettes behind the paper doors, then jumped. One of the large wooden tiles was knocked out of place, clattering atop one of its fellows, and Dragon landed lightly atop a support beam.

Anomaly was nowhere, but there was a note, rolled and poking out of a shallow hallow. Dragon dug it out with his finger and pulled it open.

A three digit room number. He read it twice more, then crushed it in his hands, stuffing it in his pocket. It wouldn't be hard to find, even from up here. He understood the architecture and room arrangements.

His thoughts trailed to Ruka. Perhaps he should go find her, keep her close just in case whatever was waiting in that room was at all helpful in saving her life. But more likely it was Anomaly, moving their discussion.

From within the attic, the first drumming of heavy rain echoed. It was harmonious, soothing in spite of everything, and gave reason for Dragon to hope she was indoors.

With that image in mind, he set off.

 **00000**

 ** _At the same time that Dragon was confronting Anomaly, Ruka was with Granny…_**

"This place reeks, old frog prune!"

"YOU'RE TOO RUDE, CHILD! BE RESPECTFUL WHEN YOU'RE A GUEST IN SOMEONE'S HOUSE!"

Rude or not, Ruka spoke the truth. Granny's house was cramped and shrieking, like an abnormally large shoe box. There were three rooms, with one split into a conjoining kitchen and dining room, where the pair sat in wooden chairs opposite each other, bickering. Useless junk (dusty books, torn blankets, animal skins) were piled high enough to reach the ceiling. The walls were yellow, with mildewed crevices, and the STENCH. Goats and Tobacco was Ruka's best guess.

"This is so gross." Ruka whined, flicking a caterpillar off the table. "How can you live here? It's horrible!"

"I was chased to the outskirts of the village decades ago." The old woman grumbled, leaning back in her chair as if resigning herself to some misfortune. "My husband built this shack for me. Even if it's falling apart and stinks to high Heaven, I can't leave it."

Ruka's jaw dropped, and she pointed at Granny. "Someone married _you_? "

The old woman was raving mad. "HAVE YOU NO COMPASSION FOR MY HEART WRENCHING TALE, GIRL?!"

Ruka, still biting, stretched her arms nonchalantly. "Mmmm~! Nope, not really! Anyway, when are we getting some food? You promised to treat me if I listened to your babbling!"

"There's no end to this!" Granny smacked the table, livid. "I already treated you on the way here! What sort of appetite must you have if you forget what you've eaten so easily? How can you be so thin?"

Ruka smirked cheekily, putting her hands on her hips. "I run around, and clobber people lots! I've also got my sister and my friends, who spar with me! Plus, I didn't get much food the past few days, thanks to Dragon, so of course I'm still hungry!"

Granny sighed in aggravation. Ruka leaned her chair back on its back legs.

"Forget all that, just hurry up and do this 'reading' thing." She demanded childishly. "I can't waste too much time on you. I could lose Dragon."

Granny's expression softened, melting from annoyance to sympathy and doubt.

"By 'Dragon' do you mean the infamous, legendary assassin Shiroryuu?" She asked calmly.

Ruka nodded. "Mm. I want to save him!"

Granny's head bowed low, and a moan of pain escaped her. Ruka blinked and leaned over the table, putting her face in her hands.

"You're not dying are you?" She asked casually.

Granny lifted her head, irked. "You really are rude."

"How do you know about Dragon and I, old prune?" Ruka repeated tepidly.

Granny let out a long sigh, leaning back in her chair. "That's a long story. But since you're in a hurry, I'll try to make it quick. You are familiar with this islands main source of income, correct?"

"You're all psychic weirdoes." Ruka blurted out. "Not devil fruit users, just weirdoes."

Granny grit her teeth in restraint. "Not. Quite. The source of our psychic abilities does indeed come from a devil fruit. It's just that the source of everyone's powers comes from a single person's devil fruit abilities, rather than everyone having their own psychic-psychic fruits."

Ruka's ears perked with light interest. "Oh cool, that makes sense. Ah, not really. Who's the fruit user then?"

"Me." Granny replied verily.

Ruka's lips parted, forming an "o" as her teeth glistened with realization. She looked up at the frog pruned Granny, red-eyed and half choking.

"You?!" She shouted in disbelief.

"Yes, you _rude_ girl! I am the fruit user!" She announced, ballistic by Ruka's. "I found the fruit when I was just a child, at the edge of the island where the waves crash into the rocky shore and swallow the trees. At the cliffs edge, where I played, a devil fruit was knocked from a tangled branches by the earthquake. I'd skipped breakfast that morning, so I ate it out of hunger. Soon as I did, I became telepathically connected to everyone on the island. And only them. Somehow, through that link, they share my gift."

"But devil fruits don't work that way!" Ruka argued stubbornly. "Only the person who eats the fruit gets powers, not an entire island!"

"Well actually it was only the children from my generation who share my gift." She explained. "And you don't have to tell me how devil fruits work, I'm aware. If you'd like to pick apart the details of this islands predicament, go right ahead. But I've done the same for seventy-two years now and learned nothing."

Ruka hummed, troubled, but shook her head. "Whatever. Anyway, Dragon and I—"

" _It_ started shortly after the tsunami." Granny interrupted, tone steely as her razor nails scratched the table. "Dreams, visions, flashes of things. The slightest object or word or sound could trigger them. While the other children were easily able to prove their abilities, through readings and random predictions, my powers seemed be solely focused on you two. The pirate girl and the CP0 child."

Ruka's heart sank at that. Focused? _What?_

"Have you been spying on us?!" She demanded haughtily, punching the table.

"Not _willingly._ Pay attention!" Granny ordered, protective. "As I was saying, the other children could prove their abilities. I could not. I told them I'd eaten a devil fruit, I even spoke of you two. No one believed me. They wrote it off as a child's jealous and playful mind. Over the years, I continued to insist that I was the source of everyone's powers and once they grew tired of hearing it, I was forced to live here with my husband. Even as a young, married woman, my mind wouldn't let me be at ease with you two. I had no idea where you were and even though I'd seen plenty, nothing was clear enough. So I only had a rough idea of what was happening to you. I was aware that you two were enduring much suffering while I was sitting around, sipping tea. The guilt of it drove me to join the marines, so I could search for you."

Ruka jumped to her feet, knocking her chair back. "You were a marine?!"

"Yes, I know of your hatred for them." Granny said gently, with understanding. "But be assured that I am fully aware of how twisted their absolute justice doctrine is, and I left them because of that knowledge."

Ruka drew back, joints tense as she squinted at Granny. After a moment, Ruka picked her chair off the ground, setting it right and taking a seat.

"Fine." Ruka said, sitting in a huff.

Granny laughed weakly, before her face fell.

"Thanks to my time with the marines I attained a broader view of the world." Granny continued, sadly. "This helped to shed a little light on things. My sight cleared, as if the veil lifted. Most of it remained unknown to me, but I was able to discern two crucial details. One was that the pair of you hadn't even been born yet. The other was what would be done to Dragon."

Ruka's eyes shook with fear. Her heart squeezed. Images of all that had happened between her and Dragon flashed by in a torturous sequence.

 _This is the only reality I've ever known._

 _I don't have anything to protect._

 _It's just the same depressing stuff over and over again._

 _There is nowhere I can go that they can't find me._

"Going by your silence, I take it you already know?" Granny said assumingly.

Ruka hesitated, then nodded, albeit stiff.

"That boy used to haunt my dreams." Granny admitted, wringing her hands. "Such a lonely child. Lonely, young, and frightened. But always so strong. Once I realized what would become of him, and knew there was nothing I could do to stop it… The weight of that knowledge was too much. I left the marines and returned home. Even if it meant being an outsider."

"What about your husband?" Ruka reminded sprightly.

Sadly, this had the opposite effect. The old woman had the same expression Dragon had worn when he'd admitted he was bored with life.

"Killed. In a pirate raid… While I was away." She answered reluctantly.

Ruka's face was contorted in pain. She clenched her fist against her cheek.

"With my own grief, the dreams became more vivid." She whispered, haunted. "A few years after that, I could foresee your first meeting. How you would travel together. How you would come here, eventually. I wasn't sure if I would actually be able to meet you, to _warn_ you."

Ruka frowned, skeptical. "Warn me of what?"

"You said you wanted to save him." Granny reminded, and Ruka nodded. "Whether that's possible or not, you're running out of time. I've known for a long time now, but there was nothing I could do when I didn't know where you were or how to contact you."

"What is it?!" Ruka demanded, shaking her free hand at the woman.

"Three days." She cautioned, eyes gleaming. "You only have three more days. If you cannot save him in that time, he will die."

Ruka blinked. Startled, stopped. Caught herself. A dry chuckle built up in her throat, but she gulped it down, because if there was thing you should never do is laugh at your friend's death, or even the idea of it. But… She did want to laugh at this old granny now. More than that, Ruka wanted to spit at her. Who did she think she was, with her years and her marine experiences and her fortune-telling gibberish? She'd never even met Dragon. She had no idea how strong he was, how fast. She now knew he didn't revel in the silent murder of hundreds, but he didn't mess around with battle. That man was a fighting veteran. He could even flatten Captain Flint. Powerful, exceptional, and NOT DYING. That was Dragon. The only thing he lacked was a will to live, and she had more than enough to share. Ruka wouldn't ever allow him to be killed.

And she knew this was true, because she believed in herself. And in him.

But sharing all that with someone who'd been spying on them for decades was out of the question. So instead, she settled on two words.

"You're lying." She said it with doubtlessness and satisfaction.

"I have seen it, girl." Granny said in an all-knowing, mightier-than-thou tone that would have made most pirates behead her. "Four days from now, in the place where false gods gather, Dragon will be executed for treason."

Ruka shook, wavering between the terror induced by the image of Dragon's death and her own strength of heart and mind. But she knew one more thing for certain…

"Dragon hasn't betrayed them!" She declared, rejecting fear. "He isn't fighting them! There's no reason to kill him for treason when he hasn't even done anything!"

"Reason?" Granny spat, almost disgusted. "I'm shocked. You think they require reason? Did those men who used to deny you food and shoot at you really need a reason? What about the men who took your mother, and your friend? Or the ones who threatened your sister? What is the sense of reason in the face of savagery? Reason or not, cruel men will do as they like, to whomever they please, at any time! Why am I having to explain this to you?! You already know!"

Ruka gripped the table, eyes glistening murderously. "I won't let them."

"That is what you've been saying from the beginning, is it not?" Granny questioned with an air of exasperation. "A single woman is no match for the world! You need help, like everyone else, if you want to save that man! Did you really think he would allow you to throw yourself between the world's highest powers and their favorite killing machine? A good, strong, fierce woman like yourself? No! He intends to return you to your family and walk willingly to his fate. After years of believing their lies, it would take something astronomical to drive him to fight them. And that astronomical thing may very well be you. It could be that he intends to go to them, to fight them for your life, even at great risk to his own. But I cannot foresee everything that will lead to his death. I only know that it is coming.

"The difference between you is great! It is as if you stand on opposite sides of the world! No, it is more like you stand at opposite sides of a great void, one filled with black lightning and jagged cliffs. The only connection between you is an old rope bridge, one that cannot possibly sustain your weight and will fall apart at your first step! Do you not understand yet? Dragon is one who has lived without hope from his first day! You have always had to fight to keep yours, but you've been blessed with everything he has never had! _Do you still think you're voice can reach him?!"_

There was a mighty boom of thunder, and the walls shook. Ruka and Granny looked out through the wide window in front of the table to see the rain pouring down in great waves.

"The storm is here." Granny said, with grief. "The clock is ticking. What will you do?"

 **00000**

 ** _Ten minutes of rain later…_**

Once he found the room, Dragon made the choice to remain in the attic, and waited for someone to arrive. Being patient wasn't something he usually struggled with, but today had somewhat special circumstances, which made sitting still impossible. He shifted, fidgeted with his cloak, and drummed his fingers on his knees. He lifted one of the tiles just enough so he could peer through the thin opening into the pitch black room.

There was a wide window, solid walls, and a paper door entrance. This one was smaller, more square-shaped, and held only a kotatsu and a smaller table resided under the window.

The shadows of rain drops blanketed the room with each flash of lightning. It was really pouring out, and Dragon had to wonder if that too was his fault.

Most people didn't blame themselves for the weather. But ever since he was a child, the weather had behaved abnormally around him. There was almost always a storm at his heels. The more agitated he was, the more thunder. But he was particularly fond of stormy weather, so he hadn't considered it much before the Eel Island Pass incident.

He could hear footsteps now. Just as he moved to put the tile back in place, another flash of lightning came, and the shadow of a gargantuan man covered the floor.

Dragon almost dropped the tile, but managed to put it back in place just before the door slid open.

He steadied himself, breathing slowly through his nose as he watched the light that leaked through the cracks.

He heard three sets of footsteps. Two of which were light, the third heavy enough to make the floor creak. There was the familiar smell of gun powder and the sea, which combined with the rhythmic movements of their footwork told Dragon all three were marines.

For the second time that day Dragon wished for a better view. He at least wanted to know whom he was spying on.

"Too bad it's pouring out." Said a familiar voice. It was the dull, drawling tone of Vice-Admiral Kuzan, whom Dragon had encountered before. "We weren't able to find a trace. Do you really think he's headed here?"

"Who knows?" Replied another casual-but-serious voice which Dragon was entirely unfamiliar with. "There's no reason to believe he'd come to this island. It's the last stop before the Grand Line. Everyone knows Flint's not interested in 'One Piece.' He has no business in the world's most chaotic ocean."

Dragon felt a prickling between his eyebrows. They were after Flint? Kuzan and two others. Who was the third person in the room?

A booming laugh drowned out the lightning, Dragon narrowed his eyes to hide his bemusement.

"No worries!" The third man half-assured, half-insisted. "If we stay in the West Blue, HQ will keep giving us feedback on his movements. If that doesn't work out, we could request passage into Mariejois."

Dragon should've been astonished by the man's boldness. Instead, he found it curiously typical. Who would dare speak of entering "The Holy Land" so calmly?

"Garp-san, you're too loud." The second man informed politely. "This inn is packed right now. We were lucky to get this room, or we'd be pooling our info on the stairs. Don't get us kicked out."

Garp…? Dragon thought, blinking incredulously. Vice-Admiral Garp?

He bit the inside of his cheek anxiously. Two vice-admirals and one other after Flint Rackham. Just what had that pirate done? No, what had Dragon done?

Vice-Admiral Garp. Everyone knew that name. Dragon heard it around every corner, always spoken with gratitude and respect. The hero of the marines, Garp the fist, who'd come within an inch of catching Roger on numerous occasions. He was close friends with the fleet admiral, Sengoku, and Tsuru the tactician. If HE caught up with Flint, the Rackham pirates would be destroyed.

Dragon had just begun to consider how he could throw the trio of marines off Flint's trail when Kuzan spoke again.

"Maybe you should stick around, Garp-san." He suggested coolly. "This place is pretty interesting. There's lots to do here."

"What are you talking about?" Garp asked stubbornly. "We've got a pirate to find. I can't take a vacation now."

"Bogard and I can go after Flint." Kuzan explained (Ah, so the second man's name was Bogard). "You could rest up here and—"

Garp let out an aggravated sigh, stirring so his back hit the wall and shook the supporting beams which Dragon was balanced on. There was the brush of fingers running though hair, and the dull scratching of facial hair. Dragon pictured Garp as a very exasperated man, then. One who was gold-plated with laughs on the outside, but all crooked on the inside.

"Look…" He began, in a sort of pleading, impatient tone which didn't fit with what Dragon knew about him. "Can we… Can-it on the whole 'take a vacation' thing? I'm not going anywhere! I've got work to do. Besides, the big-wigs would never allow it."

"Sengoku-san could soothe things over with them." Bogard said gently. "He planned to do so the last time, but you refused to—"

"Enough! Geez, what part of 'I'm not going anywhere' is so difficult?" Garp bellowed, close to losing his temper.

"We just thought… Because of the anniversary…" Bogard said awkwardly, struggling to find the words.

"What? That I was going to go home and sleep for a week?" Garp demanded, half outraged. "It's not like I don't think about them this time of year, but lazing around won't fix it. There's nothing I can do for them, and you still need me. It's that simple."

Dragon's mind reeled. He'd been so caught up in the conversation he'd placed an ear over the tiles without noticing. Who and what did they mean? The anniversary of Gol D. Roger's death was three months away. There were rumors floating around in Mariejois that Roger may have fathered a child somewhere in South Blue, and Garp was criticized by the Gorosei for his behavior at the time of Roger's execution. Could that be what this was about? Roger's death and his supposed family?

 _No…_ Said a cryptic, inner voice from before.

What then?! Dragon argued.

"Hestia-san would want you to rest." Kuzan stated matter-of-factly.

This took Dragon by surprise. He was well-aware of Kuzan's debt to Garp. To hear him speak in such an insubordinate manner… More interesting still was that name. _Hestia_ … It washed over Dragon like clear water, which was astounding. A very small handful of things could calm Dragon, so encountering such a feeling of safety and contentment from a name he was sure he'd never heard before should have been unnerving.

Why wasn't it?

Garp laughed at Kuzan's statement. "No, she wouldn't! That would be unlike her. She hated it when I was tired! Said it made me look boring."

So Hestia-san disliked the quiet, hmm? Wait, Hestia _-san?_

"How can you be so calm after losing both you wife and child?!" Bogard exploded (wasn't that hypocritical? Who was it that said they should keep it down?). "Other men would have gone mad with grief! Other men _did!"_

Dragon listened with keen interest. "Wife and child" he said. Wife meaning Hestia-san, apparently. And child referred to Garp and Hestia-san's child. Their _deceased_ child, from the sound of it.

 _No…_ Insisted the inner voice.

Shut up! Dragon ordered, returning his attention to the marines below him.

"I'm not calm!" Garp insisted. "I'm as angry over their deaths as I've ever been! But it's been twenty-seven years and I'm dealing with it!"

Dragon felt his body grow cold in the blink of an eye. Wide-eyed and pale as a sheet, he felt a cold sweat come on. Very slowly, he pushed the whole of his weight back onto the support beam, gripping the wood with a dangerous amount of force.

The stranger's discomfort over the subject of Dragon's father suddenly came back to him.

Twenty-seven years…

 _Could it be? No, no it wasn't possible… Not him. Not one of them. Him of all people…_

A crack reverberated through the air. Dragon jerked his head to the side, finding he'd half-crushed the support beam in his grip. The cracks spread quickly, spitting splinters. He heard the three men whirl, now looking at the roof.

And with that, the roof gave, and Dragon collapsed to the floor in full view of his father.

 **00000**

 **Alright, so how do you like me now? How many of you can guess who the Anomaly is?**

 **Dragon knows the truth, and Ruka is given a warning. Dragon's life is in danger. Garp just saw (his son) fall through the roof, and where'd Akainu go?**

 **Ugh, I'm tired guys. My house has the flu again (which is code for "the pipes are backed up") so any prayers would be greatly appreciated.**

 **Till next time.**

 **P.S. I'm really, very tired guys. I read through it enough that I'm sure there aren't too many typos, but sorry if I missed anything. I'll fix it ASAP.**

 **Edit: please, please, please review.**


	14. Chapter 13: Frozen and Fractured

**Yes! In spite of everything that happened, I have returned. Here is the new chapter, fresh out of word 2013's spelling and grammar check. Sorry for the wait, everybody! If you missed the memo and want to know what happened, click the PREV button above to view the Important Authors Note. Again, very sorry about that. I absolutely hated doing that, cause it happens to me a lot. Here's a _fun_ little scenario: "Oooh, this fanfiction is amazing! Its got ten chapters! What?! Chapter ten is an authors note? Noooooo!" Its worse when they take months to update the story, or never update it at all. But I really love this story I'm writing, so I hurried to buy a new laptop (for school mostly) and edited the new chap, which survived the incident. **

**WARNING: feels ahead. Lots of 'em. Prepare something cheerful for after you've finished reading. Or just read it anyway. Everyone needs a good cry once in a while.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **00000**

A World of Difference

Chapter 13: Frozen and Fractured

Dragon slammed into the tatami-matted floor, shoulder first, the top of his cheek split open and gushing blood. Dirt and dust bit into his stinging, red eyes while wood chips stuck in his clothes poking and prodding him. His ears rang, and his legs were worn down as if they lay tangled up by chains and stopped by weights.

Blind and breathless, the deathly quiet barely registered. Blood wept from under his eye, pooling on the dirty floor like a pond at the foot of a waterfall. He felt Kuzan and Bogard move, turning halfway and sliding protectively in front of Dragon's father.

 _Father._

How easily he accepted it. A living, breathing father, now standing some ten feet away from him. Gazing at him, grumpy, as he scratched his beard carelessly.

The word shifted through his mind like a ripple on water— _Father_ —and Dragon slid his hands through the mess, getting splinters in the dips between his fingers and under his nails. Pain prickled over his mind like a rush of heat, and he lifted his head, really seeing him for the first time.

The lights flickered. Kuzan and Bogard shouted at him—"Who are you?"—"Where did you come from?"—but he barely noticed.

The man behind them had a ring of white hair crowning natural-born, scrappy black. Dark eyes, with thick eyebrows adorning them. So much like Dragon's. Only this man was older, with wrinkles, and a gruff, unnaturally serious face. Apparently it had finally occurred to Garp that Dragon—or whomever he thought Dragon was—had been spying on him.

Then—a twitch. Garp's seriousness shifted, becoming one of… Disbelief. Then horror. Wonder. And back to seriousness. Some small part of him must have recognized the twenty-seven-year-old spy, but there wasn't enough willing disbelief and joy there to make him truly see Dragon for what he was. Remembering the Anomaly's warning, Dragon felt gratitude, and swallowed a sigh of relief.

If he didn't recognize him that made things simple.

Dragon scooped up the largest chunk of debris he could see—it felt too hard to be wood, maybe metal—and threw it. It flew in a wide arc, making Kuzan duck, before it shattered through the ceiling light. The room was enveloped in darkness. Lightning flashed. Glass rained. Dragon leapt across the room, using the table as a spring board, and kicked through the window. He hit the ground running, his boots swamped by the muddy hill, and washed clean by the flooded streets.

Rain. _Ice._ Kuzan controlled ice, that was his power. It made this situation even worse. Everything was soaked by rain, even Dragon in the five seconds he'd been out in the storm. The rain washed away the dirt and splinters, cleaning his eyes. His legs were free of the chains. His boots were gathering enough friction even in these puddles, so he wasn't sliding. All he had to do was keep up this speed. There was a mental layout of the village in his mind. He knew the path back to the ship, but he wouldn't go there until he lost Kuzan. He didn't want this one chatting with Sakazuki.

Garp's image fazed in and out of Dragon's thoughts, and his knees half-jerked to a stop. He fought back, pushing forward, but that little moment's hesitation cost him dearly.

The ground turned to ice beneath his feet in the blink of an eye, but not before Dragon wrenched his feet up into the air, flying backwards through the rain and coming to balance on top of a streetlamp—the kind that held an oil-burning gas-light. In seconds, the falling rain within the range of town square froze, and the buildings and air around them became encased in ice, with the fountain in the center freezing as well. The frozen snow-drops clattered to the ground in the same instant, dancing over the new ice. Dragon noted the scene with awe in spite of himself. It was like a cubic snow-globe, with all the water drained.

Ice-creeped up the pole he was balanced on, and an anxious gasp escaped him. He jumped off like a frightened cat, going to balance on the frozen water spray of the fountain. Nothing was guaranteed, but he theorized that so long as he could keep a safe distance from Kuzan himself and avoid as much direct-contact as possible with his logia powers, then he could reduce the chances of any of his limbs being frozen.

He saw them standing over the icy ground, about thirty feet away. The three of them stood side by side, with a cloud of icy breath wafting off Kuzan's body. He had his hands stuffed inside his pockets, whereas Bogard kept one hand on his sword, propping it out of his sheathe with his thumb. Garp stood slightly closer to Dragon, looking childishly angry with his fist punching his open palm.

"Alright," Kuzan began coolly, lifting his head and raising his voice. "Who are you? Why were you listening in?"

Dragon eyed him, struggling to keep his emotions steady. He would have to be the first to go, if not the only one. Dragon couldn't stay here, in Garp's line of vision, too long. Even if he didn't realize it, one of the other two might deduce the truth.

"Come on!" Kuzan ordered. "None of us are going anywhere. You need a moment to calm down anyway, seeing as you're out of breath."

Was he? Dragon blinked, realizing he was panting, and locked his teeth together. They chattered, and he shuddered in his frosted cloak.

"I see you don't like the cold." Kuzan inferred, letting his arm drop. "Should've thought about that before you interrupted our conversation."

Dragon shuddered again, more violently. Something was wrong with him—physically. His burning eyes blinked profusely, their vision blurred. His throat was inflamed, his stomach churning. Breath hissed out from behind gritted teeth, as heat pooled under his tongue.

"Enough of this." Bogard decided, drawing his sword.

"Bogard." Kuzan warned, eyes sifting from enemy to comrade.

"He's not going to answer any of our questions." Bogard continued, raising his sword. "We shouldn't trust him anyway. He heard everything we said back there. If the Gorosei find out, we'll all suffer the consequences."

At the mention of the Gorosei, Dragon bit back a vile snarl, feeling sick. This was why he'd been taken from his family, lied to, and used. No one dared fight against an overbearing world force.

"We didn't say anything clear." Kuzan assured him, trying to calm his friend. "He couldn't have heard enough to punish anyone."

"What did you hear?" Bogard took over, sounding impatient. "Who do you work for? Where did you come from?"

Dragon breathed, shaking, his fingers clenching over his stomach.

"You're shivering." Kuzan pointed out, impassive. "We're cold too you know, so if you could just answer our questions—"

Dragon suppressed a gasp, then leaned over his knees to vomit over the ice. The retching, gasping sounds resounded in his ears as his stomach lurched. When it was over, he jerked, catching himself before he could fall off the fountain.

He fell to one knee, still balanced on the frozen spray. Tasting vile and trying to blink his vision back into focus, he realized there was enough of him still in mind to notice that the ice didn't creep over him in this moment of weakness. He cast a questioning glance at Kuzan.

He was stiff, apparently finding this hardest to believe. Dragon didn't blame him. Spies were hard, fit, fierce. Something like this was out of character. And wrong. He'd been hoping to go to his grave without ever feeling this.

Their cold expressions now warped by confusion, they exchanged looks of disbelief and turned back to face Dragon. This unexpected incident had served to calm Bogard; whose sword was low now. None of them understood how it had happened.

But Dragon did. He'd suffered through the longest day of his life. Nightmares, tension, terrifying revelations. Even before he crashed through that roof, he'd been cold and sweaty. Now on top of that he was suffering vision problems, nausea, and dizziness.

He was in shock.

Shock meant fainting spells, which he couldn't afford here. He'd wake up in seastone handcuffs. He needed to get away.

His eyes snapped open, furious and resolute. There was ice creeping around his ankles (evidently Kuzan had recovered). Dragon knelt and leapt off the fountain. His feet hit the ground like a drum, the beat of which rushed through the ice. Spider-web cracks split out from beneath his boots, splitting the ice, travelling to the edge of the dome and threatening the whole foundation.

Kuzan appeared before him in a cloud of hissing mist. Dragon hadn't planned to move, but to be cut off like this was taunting. His eyes shot up, steely and gleaming, and saw Kuzan's frosted hands reach out to touch him.

No. Dragon thought, don't let him touch you. He ducked, his fingers hardened with armament haki, and crushed one hand through the rocky soil of town square. His hand found an underground pipe, and brought it to the surface in one easy pull.

Sewage burst from the open pipe, but not before Dragon kicked back. He skidded to a stop, his boots scraping up ice splinters. Kuzan wasn't even slightly fazed by the hideous sight and odors born from the unearthed pipe; his hand flew up, a long finger barely tapping the metal, and freezing it instantly.

Dragon raced around him, to Garp. The old man's legends were not plain gossip; he saw Dragon coming even before he moved. Bogard with his raised sword was at the man's side in an instant, rock-solid and prepared even though Dragon knew without a doubt that he would be easiest to pick off.

Dragon jumped, rocketing through the air. This action caused all three marines to stiffen, as it was rokushiki, and not to be known by anyone outside Cipher Pol. But that still left ten factions to sift through, all members of which were classified. Only eight factions, if you left out nine and zero, which few had even heard of.

A single moment of negligence was all the window Dragon needed. He kicked off the last burst of air and spun around, aiming a kick at Garp's head.

As expected, his foot was caught. Bogard, of course, moved to sever it.

Dragon's body spun like a top, parallel to the ground, and Garp's solid feet slid over the ice. Determined now, Dragon's foot hit a wall of air, and he used it as a springboard, spinning now in the opposite direction with twice the speed.

Garp lost his balance, slamming shoulder first into the ground with a grunt. Dragon's eyes felt like fire; he moved instinctively, now free of Garp's hold, and threw a punch right into Garp's vulnerable gut.

The resulting noise of pain was ear-wrenching, and filled Dragon with shame. But he ignored it.

Bogard moved, kneeling behind Garp's back and slicing his sword up, through the cold air. Dragon saw a vision of his head flying, and ducked, feeling a sharp wave fly over his head. He pinched his hood, pulling it over his face, and launched himself at Bogard. Garp moved to grab Dragon's neck, but he was out of the way too quickly for it to have mattered. He thrust his hand, palm-side up, into Bogard's face, clamping it over his mouth. There was the crunch of jaw bones snapping out of place, and Bogard's eyes popped from the pain.

Then Dragon was being yanked back, hood first, away from Bogard, before he had to time to think. Great, muscular hands as big as ship wheels shoved him into the ground, half-burying him in the dirt and rubble. They wrapped themselves around his throat, crushing it from the outside with such bewildering force Dragon felt as if all the energy was being drained away.

Dragon forced his blood-red eyes open and found Garp glaring down at him, righteously angry after taking two hits and seeing the harm done to his right hand man. His eyes burned, while Dragon's gaze flickered up and down his face like a dying candle.

A broken scream built up in his blocked throat, eased up and out, dying at his teeth as a groan. His mouth opened as far as possible, with the cracking of his collar bone echoing in his head. Dragon's fingers clawed numbly at Garp's hands around his throat. _Let go!_ He wanted to yell. _They're lying to you!_

Colors blended, trembling out of their borders. Light faded, giving him tunnel vision, leaving what he could see dark and flat. His chest contracted, inflating and deflating. Air! He needed air!

Anger and desperation pulled his foot back. From this angle, he couldn't put much force behind it, but he swung his foot up, digging the toe of his boot into Garp's chest. He bruised a rib.

Garp grunted, and Dragon kicked again, using the sole of his shoe. The old man got thrown off him, landing on his feet some distance away, with an arm curled over his banged up ribs.

Dragon tried to move quickly, but it was no good. His vision was doubled and spinning; his torso was full of boulders, his arms and legs were pudding. Nothing stayed where it was supposed to. His hand slid over the ice like it were soap. His heart banged around in his chest.

What was wrong with him? This wasn't like him. He was someone who never, ever gave into despair. Who never let the odds turn in favor of the enemy. Why now?

Blood forced its way up his bruised throat like gravel, splattering over the smooth ice like red paint, and sizzling like it was too warm. He folded his elbow over his mouth, hacking and retching, and in the midst of all this his mind somehow put two and two together.

Ah. He understood. It was different before, where he wanted to survive no matter what just so he could see. But now he had no motivation. Not after everything he'd uncovered. It was all a lie. From the very beginning he had nothing.

Not even a decent reason to live.

He felt the same deft, thick fingers clutch around his throat, lifting him into the air. His vision tumbled, darkening, and he sank half into unconsciousness. He forced his mind to wake, and it felt much the same as having to swim to the surface of the ocean after jumping too far down into the blue. What he found at the edge of sleep wasn't comfortable. He was shaken like a ragdoll, squeezed to the point he should've popped like a balloon.

Lies… He wanted to say. It would destroy him, like it had Dragon, but he wanted to tell Garp the truth. But, no, he couldn't. They'd kill him, or worse take someone else from him. No…

Dragon's head dropped. This was it. Only a little light left, and soon that would be gone too.

There was a great shattering, far above. He knew it was great because it had to be, for him to hear at all in this state. Ice rained down on his face, and the tiny spark of vision left to him lit up like a candle. There was a great whistling of wind falling over the ice, and Dragon felt it on the small, less numb areas of skin he still possessed.

The world jerked, and the hands around his neck loosened. The wind came again, carrying a whisper.

 _…Dragon…!_

The hands disappeared, and his world came back to him as he hit the ice, a crumpled, barely conscious, heap of reeking blood and vile. His ears twitched under his hood as his eyes spun, and he struggled to blink them into focus. Yes, he was having trouble hearing, but it shouldn't be _this_ quiet. The muted pounding on the door that was his connected mind had ceased entirely.

There was a strange sensation as his senses rushed back to him, like things falling into place. Too suddenly, he could hear, he could see, he could even taste the inside of his mouth (he really wished he couldn't).

He saw Garp above him, with Ruka on his shoulders, her hand grasping the knife that she'd come so close to stabbing him with. He saw the two other marines, not a stone's throw behind them, more than capable of helping (even with Bogard holding his broken jaw) but looking too shell-shocked to do so. He could see a cloaked man in the reflection of the ice, looking beaten and frazzled, like something the cat dragged in. Then he realized he was seeing himself.

"Run, Dragon!" Ruka ordered, sounding angrier than anything. Garp reached around to grab her and missed by a hair's breadth as she hopped off his back and landed in front of Dragon. There was a pinch in his back, and he looked at her, annoyed by the pain. She pulled back an empty, hypodermic needle and tucked it away inside her shirt.

He felt the path of his throat smooth open, allowing for decent breaths, though there was still pain. His vision and hearing returned fully. He deduced that it had to be whatever she'd just given him, but questions would have to wait until later.

He shot to his feet and pulled her behind him, something that wasn't very smart. He might as well have written IMPORTANT across her forehead. Consequently, the three pairs of enemy eyes zeroed in on her.

But they didn't move.

Dragon blinked, his gaze flickering from one marine to the next. Their faces… They were still too stunned. Like they'd seen rotting zombies crawl out of their graves. No. Like they'd seen a fit and healthy, flesh and blood person climb out of a decades old grave.

He flinched, recalling the echoed whisper from before, and the crystal-clear shouted repetition. There was a lit spark of realization in his head, and he stiffened.

Ruka hadn't used his battle name, Shiroryuu. She was too used to calling him by his real name, his birth name, which the three marines now knew. The enemy marines, with his veteran father among them, were all staring at Dragon as if seeing him with new eyes.

"DRAGON?!" Garp called out, relieved and morose and horrified.

Dragon felt weights tumble through his body, locking it into place. They knew.

No.

"Impossible…!" Kuzan breathed.

"No way…" Bogard whispered.

Dragon heard them, but his gaze was locked with Garp's. The old man's expression showed anguish, like carving his heart out with a spoon would have been less painful than seeing Dragon. Here. Now. Alive.

That lit a fire under Dragon, melting the weights. He turned, looping an arm around Ruka's waist and shooting off, a bullet echoing in the wind. He kicked through the icy barrier, barely believing the depth of their shock as he disappeared into the storm.

 **00000**

Ruka stayed curled over his shoulder and watched him run at top speed for miles. He maneuvered through the network of deserted, rainy streets and overshadowed back alleys as though he knew them like the back of his hand.

She shouted at him to stop, to tell her what was wrong, or to turn the other way. He never replied or responded in any way. The rain fell and thunder boomed, but this barely registered. Her gaze was firmly focused on Dragon, who had that animalistic look in his eyes again; the kind one developed after being shoved in a cage and beaten with sticks.

"Dragon, stop! Stop!"

He couldn't hear her. Why was he freaking out so bad?

Between his hugging arms and the rain, Ruka couldn't breathe. She would've kicked and squirmed for freedom if he weren't beaten up so bad. The drug she'd injected him with only accelerated the healing process by a tenth of the average time needed. Given his vitality and already quick healing, he'd be fine. But she still didn't want to risk kicking his wounds.

If only he would look at her. Actually look at her. Then she could calm him. Or at least confirm what his frantic heartbeats, which dominated her own, were telling her. They grew more erratic with each second. His blood pressure must have spiked to dangerous heights. She had to stop him now before he seriously hurt himself.

She saw a vision of him collapsing, and sleeping without ever waking. It spurred her on, frightened her, forced her mouth open—

"DRAGON, STOP!" She ordered. Her voice rang over the village like a tambourine. The rain trembled. A wave of fresh, cold air passed out from the center of her body. She noticed a stray cat, standing under the shelter of an awning, pass out on a front porch.

Dragon fell to his knees heavily, abruptly, in the middle of a trash-filled alley way. His shoulder fell against the brick wall, and started sliding down, about to drown in the flood.

Ruka sat on her knees, catching him, and working her arms up his back to steady him. He stayed hunched over her small frame, his breathing ragged, and her hands fisted in his cloak. She half-screamed when the weight of him almost forced her on her back, and jumped when a bolt of lightning touched a metal lamp post across the street.

With strength she didn't know she possessed, she managed to lean his soaked, overbearing form against the dripping brick wall, hugging him tightly to hold him there. The rainfall increased tenfold, and she grit her teeth to keep the scream of aggravation in. What the hell were they supposed to do now? Sit here, out in the open, waiting to die of cold or be caught by those bastard marines?

There was a vile taste in her mouth at the thought of them. She didn't know them, but they had to be tough if just the three of them could beat down Dragon like that. What the hell was that about anyway? He beat her, but lost to them? What a load of—

She groaned, sinking back on her knees, then forcing the pair of them back up with a groan. Why was he so heavy? Even when they were trudging up a muddy hill in a blinding rainstorm he wasn't this heavy. Why was he so tense? The muscles in his back were too hard and contracted, like they'd swollen or something.

She ground her teeth, moved her feet under her, slipping twice and bashing one knee open the second time. She ignored the pain and kept struggling until Dragon was fully turned and leaning against the wall. Her fingers slipped under his hood, holding his face. His eyes were lost in shadow, and his skin was ice cold and stiff. The pulse in his neck could be felt through his cheeks.

Ruka moved closer, mounting concern shoving agitation aside. What was wrong with him? If she didn't know better, she'd say he was spooked. His temperature was dangerously low. A river of cold sweat was mixed with the rain on his clammy skin.

Lightning touched down, again too close for comfort. Ruka threw herself over Dragon, burying his head in her chest and glaring at the sky. Hugging his head, she cast a death glare down the way from whence they came. She could feel his heart racing but his breathing was weak.

What had they done to him? That huge marine fellow nearly choked the life out of him. What if something was broken?

Ruka held him close, bowing her head as electric rage pooled in her eyes.

"Don't worry." She began an oath. "Be it the world or the heavens I won't surrender you to anyone."

Dragon went limp in her arms. Ruka noticed it at once, her hair standing on end and goosebumps traveling up her arms. She leaned him back, still cradling his face in her arms.

"Dragon?" She asked, pleading with him to wake up. "Dragon?!" She leaned closer, looking up at him from below. "Dragon, wake up! Don't sleep! You can't sleep here!"

He didn't stir. Ruka pressed her ear over his heart. It had weakened dramatically.

"No…!" She gasped, lifting her head up and pressing her forehead against his. Maybe if she yelled in his face, he'd wake up just to frown at her. "Don't die!"

She flinched, realizing she could hear the rain but no longer feel it hitting her skin. Confused, she half turned, leaving one hand laid over Dragon's cold skin, and looked far above her into the eyes of a small giant.

Or so it seemed. Whoever he was, he was impossibly huge and broad shouldered, clad in a long dark cloak. He was kneeling, leaned over the pair of them, capable of completely shielding them from the rainfall. He sort of looked like the grim reaper.

Ruka jumped at the thought, whirling and half-rising to press her back to Dragon, shielding him. But the Reaper merely reached out, one of his huge fingers brushing her wrist in a gesture of reassurance.

"Don't worry." He promised, his steady voice pushing all concerns from her mind with a gentle shove. "I'm a friend."

 **00000**

For Garp, everything passed in a blur.

Kuzan and Bogard conversed from either side of him for a minute, but he heard not one word of what was said. His gaze was permanently glued to the hole in Kuzan's ice. It was the exit which his son had used to run away from him.

Garp didn't fight the low, hysterical laugh that escaped him. The edges of his mouth turned up in an unsteady smile, while above his eyes shook. His mind was divided, one half spinning while the other stayed blank and empty. It made him feel lopsided.

Impossible. It wasn't possible.

 _Yes, yes it was._ He was so happy. Hestia would be so happy. For the first time in a long time, he could remember how she looked when she smiled.

Kuzan and Bogard started leading him back to the inn. They had one hand each on him, his arm and shoulder, gently guiding him back inside. Apparently they weren't going to chase after him after all. He fumbled with words, or rather a lack thereof, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. He was a marine. It was a huge part of his entirety. A suspicious looking character had just fled after being caught eavesdropping on a private conversation between himself and two close friends. They should pursue. But on the other hand ( _that was his son. Probably. Looked around the same age, had the same name, even sort of looked like him. Dragon was alive!_ ) that man had used rokushiki. Which belonged to cipher pol. If he belonged to them, then whatever he was up to was classified. Wait, why did he care about that, now of all times? ( _Because it meant he could leave him be. He'd almost strangled him to death. What sorry excuse for a father was he? If he was even his father, which he wasn't. Probably.)_

Garp blinked, finding himself standing emptily in the corner of the inn's lobby. Bogard was having a discussion with the manager as maids with dusty brooms, trash bags, and wood chips in their hair and clothes rushed by. Kuzan sat in a chair at Garp's side, looking too lost in deep thought to answer any questions, or give any advice.

He didn't believe it, though. That much was obvious about Kuzan. Did Garp believe it? ( _No. Absolutely not. Maybe? No, no it couldn't be.)_

He squeezed his eyes shut. Dragon and Hestia were dead! They had to be! He'd heard all about what had happened, from a very reliable source. Tsuru and Sengoku had insisted on being the ones to break the news to him, much to the dismay of Kong and the rest.

He could remember that time so clearly. Hestia was cryptic, cynical, and willful. No one believed him when he said he was marrying her. After a few short years of serving the marines, he'd only had brief encounters with her, but he knew she'd taken a liking to him. They worked in different regions, with different ranks, and could only stay in touch through transponder snails and letters. Years of being apart, with Garp chasing pirates and Hestia tracking down traitors. When finally, there was enough time for them to enjoy some time together, they found that they could make each other laugh. One day, Hestia gave him a hug, and told him he was the only one to ever make her smile. Ever.

They were so rarely seen together. Garp rarely talked about her, because she'd emphasized her hatred towards any sort of gossip. Thanks to that, very few even knew he had a wife. Tsuru and Sengoku met her, and the higher ups were aware. As to why, well that was because of Dragon.

Hestia didn't take to having a person growing inside her very well. Her body wasn't fully compatible with it, and her mind was falling to bits. Garp knew something was wrong when the tears began. Hestia was an amazingly calm woman, with little to no emotional outbursts. But it didn't stop with tears. There were fits, panic attacks, an astounding amount of fainting spells (which was really saying something for a pregnant woman). Twice, she almost fell into coma. When he asked her what was wrong, or what should be done, she'd just burst into hysterics, which quickly turned to tears. It was a very stressful time, so both of them took time off work.

The birth was a messy one. It very nearly killed both Hestia and Dragon. Several doctors and Tsuru tried to explain it to him, but he still had trouble getting what was happening. The best that he could understand it was that the unborn Dragon's way out was blocked, and the only chance either of them had was to cut him out of her. It was such an emergency that they didn't even have time to administer morphine, so Hestia was conscious through the whole thing. It left her physically weak to the point that she could barely run, she also had trouble breathing but it was something she claimed was just stress. She was hospitalized in a specific country in the East Blue, supervised constantly, and her days working for the World Government were over.

Garp returned to work at Sengoku's urgency. The hot shot big wigs were giving him and Kong a dangerous amount of grief over Garp's extended absence; he had no choice but to leave. Dragon was premature, and kept on medication. As the son of the Navy's Hero, he was a big concern for the doctors there. They hovered over him, ready to whip out anything and everything to keep that kid alive. Sengoku spoke of better doctors in the Grand Line, on an Island called Drum. But Tsuru warned Garp not to move either member of his family; they weren't yet strong enough for that.

Once Dragon was healthy enough, and Hestia stable enough, she was allowed to visit him. Twice Garp came home to be with them, an action that annoyed the superiors, but it was worth it to see the pair of them together, healthy, happy, and alive. For just a moment, everything was just perfect. He could see the road ahead: taking them home to Goa, letting them stay in Fuusha with that mayor he'd befriended. Dragon growing up, joining the new recruits of the marines. Hestia letting the time pass her by, always reading or drawing like she enjoyed.

But then all of that was erased. The island where their hospital resided was burnt to a crisp. It was the single greatest disaster in the history of peace that was built and maintained by the World Government. And it was the ones at the very top who decided to cover the whole thing up, make it disappear. There was a CP0 agent with the power to erase and rewrite memories. He was the one who made everyone forget their loved ones, who wiped out any mental trace of that island. Anyone with loved ones there suddenly forgot their loss; their homes were raided and pictures of the deceased were stolen and burned. Maps were redrawn and distributed.

At the time of the tragedy, Garp was away. Working. Investigating a lead on the legendary sky island, which ended up being a wild goose chase (the lead was mere gossip). He was called back to HQ by Sengoku, who with Tsuru's help broke the news to him as gently as he could. It was a waste of time: there was no easy way of saying that they had died. Together. Burned alive in a stupid hospital. The bodies were too badly burned; not even their teeth were intact. But the same number of patients and staff were accounted for. The same was true for the civilian population. They were recorded as numbers on paper, not names. There were no graves for any of them. It would've been proof that the world had lost something, however small it may have seemed.

Numbers on paper. Not names. No real identification of bodies. Yet everyone was accounted for. But technically, their bodies were never truly identified.

Sengoku wouldn't have lied to him. But maybe he didn't know. Or maybe he did, and was forbidden to say.

Bogard approached them, and both Kuzan and Bogard loosened up a fraction.

"He says our room won't be repaired until morning." Bogard said, answering a less important question. "But he says there's a council room that just opened up. The maids are preparing it now. They're carrying in futons."

 _There's no way I'll get even a wink of sleep._

"Just opened up?" Kuzan prompted, acutely suspicious.

"Yes, apparently it was given to a stranger, whose suddenly and inexplicably disappeared with one of their transponder snails." Bogard answered, thick eyebrows overshadowing his eyes.

Kuzan tensed, fingers curling in front of his face. "Him."

Bogard nodded firmly. "It must be."

Garp didn't say anything. None of this told him what he needed to know.

 _Who are you? What were you doing here? What are you up to?_

 _What will I have to do?_

It couldn't be him. It just couldn't be.

But just one flash of that man's image through his mind was enough to tell him he was wrong.

 **00000**

Caught in that strange state between consciousness and sleep, Dragon could only process minor thoughts. "It smells bad in here" and "Too loud" were easy enough but everything else was too complex.

It felt like he was floating, face up, in the middle of the ocean with his body submerged. Eyes shut tight and splashed with cold sweat and rain, he could hear thunder crash overhead and gale winds echo in his ears. The usual crisp, clean scent of rain was lost in the reeking stench of pipe tobacco and animal droppings, though he caught whiffs of something less strong and more pleasant: a light combination of hearth and sea spray.

"They're too loud" crossed his mind again, and his body twitched in frustration. It was like someone tuned the radio so there was less static. Background chatter between familiar voices seeped through a cold veil, flooding his mind.

"Is he going to be okay?"

The voice was urgent, close, and thick with worry. They were leaning over him, there mouth close to his ear. They leaned closer, and something creaked. The hearth and sea spray concoction got stronger, and Dragon took a deep breath.

Ruka. His fingers twitched.

"How do you feel?"

It was him again. That Anomaly, whom he'd met at the inn. He passed right over Ruka's question to ask one of his own. His tone was light, direct, but his intentions were clear. For some reason, this made Dragon trust him more. This was the one who'd revealed almost everything. The one who directed Ruka to that room, whose ceiling he'd wrecked. The accompanying mental images made him lurch in his sleep, and he felt the rub of the moth-eaten blanket on his neck.

"Dragon?" Ruka called, pressing her forehead against his. He didn't know why; he wasn't feverish.

With a low moan, Dragon's head lolled back, sinking into the flimsy pillow while ragged breaths escaped through his nose

"What's wrong with him?" Ruka asked, gripping Dragon's wrist through the blanket. "Is he sick?"

"Physically," Anomaly began, sounding bored and unfazed, "He should be fine. There's heavy bruising around his neck and flesh wounds on his hands and arms. He'll recover from those injuries. But the ones inflicted on his heart and mind will persist. Tend to those, if you can."

Dragon stirred. What did he mean by that?

"Now are you going to answer me?" The stranger ordered, politely.

Ruka hesitated, and Dragon's eyes opened a crack. She was uneasy. This gave him a hard shove towards consciousness, a whisper of comfort caught in his throat.

"I'm fine!" She answered, stubborn. "They didn't do anything to me! But…"

"But?" Stranger prompted.

Ruka clutched at the blanket covering Dragon, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I… Said his name." She admitted, as if confessing to a great crime. "I didn't think about it… I just thought he'd listen if I called out to him, directly. But then I remembered Granny's warning. 'It will begin with his spoken name.' I don't get why, but everyone just froze. Those marine guys, I mean. They looked horrified, like I'd thrown blood in their faces."

She blinked her eyes open, and cast a wary, pleading look in the southernmost direction.

"He'll be okay right?" She begged, folding her hands over Dragon's heart. He felt a twinge of pain in his chest as it beat so hard it should've burst.

"What happened after you escaped?" The stranger asked, interrogating her.

"We were just running." Ruka answered, her fingers curling over the blanket. "I yelled at him to stop, and he… just sort of fell. Then he passed out."

Dragon inhaled raggedly, and Ruka jumped. Of course. Haki. She'd used haki on him, unintentionally. How strange. Dragon had a particularly strong spirit. Not just anyone could bring him to his knees. Somehow, Ruka's abilities didn't surprise him. She _would_ be the one whose strength of will would overwhelm his own. She'd been doing that already. Some credit for her success might have been given to the last few hours being more stressful than anything else Dragon had experienced in his entire life. But even so…

"Hey, can you hear me?" Ruka shouted, her worry reaching its peak. "Please wake up! Dragon!"

His name, spoken in her voice, had an almost gravitational pull. Before he knew it, he was sitting bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, fists full of bed sheets. Lightning crackled in the sky, illuminating the shadowy room. It was cluttered, with yellow walls. The bed was clean enough, but he was eager to be out of it. Two tall candles flickered on a bedside table.

The first thing he saw was the stranger, seated in a chair at the foot of the bed. His hood was still up; his gargantuan form took up most of the small room.

Ruka's arms were thrown around him, her face pressed into his neck. When did that happen?

He blinked profusely, his mind racing. He fought his way through a swamp of memories to gain control of at least one arm, which came up to rest over Ruka's back, his fingers cupping the back of her head.

"Where am I?" He asked, groggy but demanding, most of his mind preoccupied by the weight of Ruka in his arms.

"What do you remember?" Anomaly asked, his eyes lost in the shadow of his hood.

Dragon's arm unconsciously hugged Ruka closer, his head dipping down. Her form was rigid, her skin felt cold to the touch.

"Everything." Dragon replied, his father's face flashing before his eyes with the next crackle of lightning. He'd looked as horrified to see him as Dragon was to find him.

Anomaly took a breath, and began. "After you escaped, you passed out in the rain. I found the two of you caught in the storm, and Ruka asked me to bring the both of you back here. It's a small shack located on the edge of the woods. It belongs to an elderly psychic Ruka befriended earlier today."

Dragon nodded dully, understanding. Granny, hmm? The poor woman must be exasperated.

"How do you feel, Dragon?" Anomaly asked, cautious. Dragon met his eyes, and knew in that moment he'd told Ruka nothing of what he'd revealed in that private council room mere hours earlier.

He felt a fresh wave of anguish crash down on him, swelling in his stomach. His mind flickered on and off like a light switch. His arm clenched over Ruka's thin, muscled form, and he decided to focus on that. On her. At least for now. If nothing else, it would quell her fears.

He locked eyes with Anomaly and lied fluently:

"I feel fine."

The men, both mutually silent, acknowledged the thickness of that lie. But the woman in Dragon's arms remained blissfully unaware. Her ear was pressed over his heart, and she sighed in contentment to find the rhythm had slowed to an average, healthy pace.

This was the sole blessing in the tumultuous thoughts that plagued Dragon's mind. He barely heard Anomaly's explanation of how the owner of the house had loaned Dragon and Ruka some old clothes lying around the house, with Dragon's clothes coming from the woman's deceased husband's belongings. He spotted their old clothes strung up from the ceiling to dry. He paid no mind when the old psychic finally made her appearance, and she and Ruka broke into a comical banter about guest attitudes.

Only two things mattered. One, his arms were full for once. Two, he knew what he had to do next. Necessary, but awful. It made him wish the old man had succeeded in strangling him.

 **00000**

Sakazuki trudged up the wet board ramp, hands shoved deep into his pockets, curled into tight fists and sweating through the fabric. In spite of the fact that the rain ceased little over and hour ago, and that Yudai's crew had managed to finish loading their cargo (dozens of crates of mossy wood chips) before the storm began, Sakazuki still wasn't happy. Of course, he was never happy.

But what stuck out in his mind was the most troublesome labyrinth of conflicting arguments. They centered on Dragon, how the man had successfully lost Sakazuki, and how the latter's attempts to track down the former had failed miserably. He'd had to take shelter in one of the merchant shops until the storm calmed down. By then it was morning, and he knew he had to return to the ship, so he wouldn't delay their disembarking any more than he already had.

Stepping onto the ship, he found it basically deserted, save for the captain who was waiting for Sakazuki in the center of the deck, his arms folded behind his back and his expression chiding. Sakazuki fought back a protest that would've sounded too childish for him to live with. Still, Yudai was ranked under him. He had no right to look at him that way.

"Where have you been?" Yudai asked after Sakazuki started to approach him.

He didn't care enough to answer, and proceeded to the next subject at hand:

"Has he returned?" He asked, impatience sharpening his tone.

Yudai sighed through his nose, looking up at his superior with a look of appraisal. It was clear to both men his acting could not have been worse. Even if he said nothing, his thoughts were clearly centered almost obsessively on his childhood friend. He didn't care. Yudai shouldn't either. They both knew why he felt the need to keep a close eye on him.

"Yes." Yudai answered lightly, stepping closer cautiously. "He made his appearance about ten minutes before the rain stopped. Went straight to Hayashi's room."

Sakazuki raised an eyebrow. "Before the rain stopped?"

"Just before, when it was lighter." Yudai explained.

Sakazuki nodded dismissively. "And?"

Yudai nodded pointedly. "He wants to speak with you. He's been waiting outside, in the rain, for a while now."

Sakazuki frowned, eyes narrowing. He twisted, then frowned back at Yudai, a question in his eyes.

"He says it's about our course." Yudai clarified, his tone stiff. "Claims the path he wishes to take is… Classified."

Sakazuki nodded, muttered a quiet thanks, and marched off. He reached the outer walls of the captains quarters, rounding the bend, passed up the vice-captain's quarters, to reach the open area between the galley and the lodgings. The main deck.

Shiro—… _Dragon_ was leaning his back against the ship's brim, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression solemn as he leaned his head back to frown at the crackling, charcoal colored sky. Again, the area was empty. Even Dragon's so-called companion was nowhere in sight.

"I heard you wanted to speak to me?" Sakazuki prompted, approaching Dragon and crossing his arms over his chest.

Dragon's head tilted so he stared dully at Sakazuki.

"Hello, old friend." He greeted, dead-eyed and empty-voiced.

Sakazuki suppressed a twitch, and scoffed.

"Why the nostalgia now?" He asked, gruffly. "Where's your little _companion?"_

"Resting." Dragon looked forward, his arms dropping to his sides. "Storms tire her out."

Sakazuki chuckled, taunting. "Pitiful. Is she a house cat?"

Dragon laughed through his nose, sliding his hands into his pockets and taking a wide step away from the edge.

"It's crucial I reach home as soon as possible." He stated, serious and unmoving. "As soon as we've entered the Grand Line, I want you to direct Yudai down the Eastern Accelerated Current. You do remember it, correct?"

Sakazuki stiffened. That particular current was another phenomenon of the Grand Line, one that was not so easily explained. It stretched in a thin, long arch just inside the sea, sandwiched between the calm belt and the outermost chain of islands. It was a well-kept secret, one shared between a small handful of people. The reason for this was because the E.A.C. was an astoundingly quick route. If you entered it, the speed of the current would carry you from the start of the Grand Line to the Red Line in thirty-six hours. A thirty-six-hour trip, compared to a month's long journey, was both miraculous and convenient. The pirates would have a field day if they ever discovered it. Sakazuki was aware of it only because it was the same route he used to ride with his father on their bi-annual pilgrimages to the Holy Land.

"The Gorosei will have your head for this." He stated grimly.

Dragon rolled his shoulders. "Not necessarily. I'll probably get chewed out. That's fine, I've been lectured before. Numerous times really."

"What is going on?" Sakazuki pressured, whirling. "Why don't you simply call one of their ships down here to fetch you? Better that than risk this entire crew—"

Dragon turned on his heel, marching up to Sakazuki, his expression astoundingly dark and murderous, which was saying something. He stopped only when the toes of their shoes were mere centimeters apart, getting in Sakazuki's face. He leaned back, away from the fury of the most dangerous man in the world, feeling a quiver of fear. He hated to acknowledge it, but he'd never once seen Dragon like this. Ever. He couldn't predict what this person, who resembled a wild animal in the best scenario, would do.

"I. Do. Not. Care." He emphasized each word, spitting it with venom. "What happens to this crew is none of my concern. So long as they deliver me to Sabaody first they can all—drop—dead."

Narrowed, ravenous eyes that thirsted for blood. Sakauki's fingers twitched. He _did_ know this look. He'd been on the receiving end of it before. Just before they parted ways, never to stand in unity again.

Sakazuki's blood ran cold. Not good.

"What's happened to you?" He asked in an urged whisper. Anger burned in his throat. Something was very wrong here. What was he planning?

Dragon smirked, apparently finding Sakazuki's question purely hilarious. He turned, marching into his borrowed room and slamming the door behind him.

 **00000**

 **Please review! They are the lifeblood of fanfictions, or at least the fuel. I want to know you're thoughts.**

 **So yeah, Dragon's pissed. As for what he's planning, you'll find out next chapter when they arrive at Sabaody.**


	15. Chapter 14: The Forget-Me-Not Oath

**Sorry for the long wait! Here is the newest chapter. Things are kind of hectic right now. My house lost its old man diapers (code for there's a leak). My house is just terrible. Gets robbed, smells, has horrible plumbing, etc. If I had the fighting skills of Luffy and the rest I'd live in a tent in the woods. Anyway, this is a very important chapter. You'll probably both hate me and love me for it. I decided to throw in a quote mainly because I like quotes. I have a bunch of them pinned all over my wall. The quotes are relevant to the chapter. My finals are closing in on me, so I probably won't be able to post a new chapter until after May 11th.  
**

 **00000**

A World Of Difference

Chapter 14: The Forget-me-not oath

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 _There's such a difference between us and a million miles._

 _—Adelle_

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A World of Difference

Chapter 14: Oaths and Forget-Me-Nots

A single candle sat on the edge of the desk, flickering in the late night air. Beside it, a dendenmushi, blank-faced and waiting. A nice sea breeze blew in through the crack under the door, filling the dark room with the smell of the sea.

The ship was humming with the snores and mumbles of sleeping sailors both underfoot and in the next rooms. It wasn't all that late, really, a mere quarter from midnight. But everyone was exhausted. First from entering the Grand Line (the rookie sailors had walked around with straight legs—like sweaty toy soldiers) and again from being forced to operate the ship from behind closed doors. Sakazuki hadn't allowed them to see exactly where it was they were going, and Hayashi was forbidden from noting it in his logbook even though someone at HQ would eventually notice the time gap.

Ruka snored away as well, her lanky-and-medium-built form draped over the bed. One knee, one arm, and her head hugged the edge. Her long fingers, still caked in blood, were half curled, fingertips brushing the floor as she blew snot bubbles. Her head moved, fringe falling into her closed eyes. She mumbled something that sounded a lot like "bastard marines" as her leg fell completely over the edge of the bed.

Dragon stepped out of the darkness, into the range of the weak candlelight, his expression somber. He carefully slid one hand under her shoulder and the other under her knee, rolling her gently back onto the bed and pulling the blanket up to her shoulders. The slight movements stung him, causing tight twinges of pain to stretch along the nape of his neck and collar bone. He barely noticed the pain, distracted by Ruka who mumbled something—"Jerkface…!"—and went back to snoring. He smiled, barely. Wistfully. The expression quickly fell back into a grievous frown, overwhelmed by the numbness threatening to eat him alive.

He placed a hand over her head—thumb brushing cheek, fingers in hair, palm pressed over her temple. He stayed that way for a while. Frozen. Observing the simple but privileged process of her low, even breathing.

 _Pudupudupudu…Pudupudupudu…pudupudupudu..*_

Dragon's gaze went from soft to sharp in the blink of an eye, literally. He shifted his focus from Ruka to the transponder snail. The creature rang endlessly, unfeeling to his plight. Dragon knew who it was that called. He could almost feel the blood lust transmitted through the connected signals.

Minutes ago, he'd called someone who wanted his head on a stick. Someone who had to be within range for Dragon to reach her at all. Someone who demanded her sister's return, and threatened him with a number of atrocious tortures and harsh labels. The same someone whom had informed him that her lover and captain wasn't on board at the moment. In the midst of her telling him what Flint Rackham would do when he found him, Dragon hung up.

It had rung several times since then. He waited ten minutes, then five more. Waited for the one whom he needed to speak with to arrive. Now twenty minutes had passed.

Dragon stood, stalking over to the transponder snail. He unhooked the receiver, raising it to his mouth as the numbness he'd been feeling for the last twenty-four hours blossomed in his chest like a toxic flower. Ruka stirred, her face scrunched up in discomfort or annoyance. Or both.

The first things Dragon heard were some pointless squabbling and static as those on the other line grappled and clutched after the receiver.

" _Moshi-moshi!"_ A cheerful voice answered, and the dendenmushi mimicked a bright eyed, stupidly grinning male _. "We're not the Rackham pirates, and we're not planning on storming Mariejois! And we didn't bribe some rich king into telling us the quickest way to get there!"_

There was more fighting. Curses, possibly some objects being thrown. Static hissing from the dendenmushi. An argument broke out, causing the antenna-eyed creature to switch back and forth between different characters.

 _"Don't just pick up unknown callers!"_

 _"Yeah it can be anyone, you know!"_

 _"It's alright!"_ Bright-eyes replied in complete confidence. _"I lied! No one will know!"_

A cacophony off gibberish erupted from the dendenmushi. Dragon heard clumps and clatterings. Small but hefty objects being thrown. Followed by the cries of pain from Bright-eyes.

 _"Give that to me you idiots!"_ Someone demanded.

Dragon learned a lot from that one sentence. His voice was thick. But from rage not tears. His tone was unreasonably harsh like a spiked and poisoned whip. His point was heard from the first letter. Dragon soon found himself staring into the weary and hateful eyes of a man who was both desperate and mad with fury.

"Hello, Flint Rackham." Dragon greeted, his tone low and light. Every syllable was spoken with caution, and still the pain in and around his throat ached in protest.

 _"Where is she?"_ Was the growled reply.

"Safe." Dragon glanced over his shoulder at the slumbering Ruka. _Thankfully_. "For now."

 _"Give her back_ now _before I kill you."_ Flint threatened.

Dragon was unimpressed. "Enough with the dramatics. You and I have business to discuss."

 _"Screw that! You stole my best mate from me! I'm not doing any business with you—"_

"Keep your voice down." Dragon ordered, almost growling. The tone rubbed his throat like a cheese grater; he bit back a moan of pain, swallowed, and relaxed his throat before speaking again. "I know you're planning on attacking Mariejois. I knew before your man over there ratted you out."

Dead silence followed. Someone gulped in the background.

 _"I don't know what you're talking about."_ Flint denied.

"Don't lie, it's pitiful." Dragon remarked. "Raiding the holy land is your only chance, at least from your perspective. You've no idea where I am, or what route I'm taking, so you can only go to my destination. Even if it takes you a year or two to actually reach it. Even if it means you might die on the way there. Allow me to tell you something you already know: It's pointless. Even if you make it there alive, you'll never leave. You'll be cut down like corn—"

 _"Shut it!"_ Flint ordered. _"You don't have any idea what we're capable of! We don't care about the odds. We're rescuing her even if it kills us!"_

"I said keep your voice down, didn't I? Anyway, you'll just die along with her." Dragon told him mercilessly. " _If_ you go to Mariejois. But you won't have to. Not anymore."

 _"What are you talking about? What have you done?!"_ Flint hissed _._

"Nothing yet." Dragon clutched the receiver. "Listen, Flint. I know you don't trust me. I know you hate me for taking her away from you. I know you'll stop at nothing to get her back. But you aren't alone."

 _"What are you getting at?"_

Dragon glared ahead, full of resolve and with nothing to lose.

"Make a deal with me."

 **00000**

 _Dragon, whatever you're thinking about doing—_ don't.

Dragon raised his head, dead gaze greeting him in the reflection of the gem-encrusted, marble-framed, wide bathroom mirror. He slid his hand around the edge of the glistening sink, accidentally knocking over a perfume bottle of sugary sweet, sickening fragrance. His eyes popped, suddenly furious as he grabbed the pearl-rimmed, smooth-cut glass bottle and marched over to the small window, undoing the latch and chucking the vile odor far off into oblivion.

He left the window open, and turned on the hot water, letting the steam gather in the glittering bathtub (which was large enough to hold ten people) and spill over onto the floor. He almost dropped to his knees there, at the edge of the tub. He'd been dropping a lot lately, or just plain lounging for hours on end.

She only worried because she knew nothing of what he'd uncovered. She wouldn't ask, merely wait. Her patience for this was infinite. When he lay or sat, so did she. When he moved, she circled him like a satellite. When he slept (or pretended to sleep) she dreamed. Every one of her breaths were choked, or bitten. When they left her it was only as anxious sighs. The stitch between her eyes never smoothed. But her eyes were open, stiff, and blank. She tapped her finger on her knee to the rhythm of his breaths, almost as if she were counting them.

He thought—he couldn't be sure, but maybe—she was being supportive in spite of knowing nothing. He contemplated that. In the time he'd known her he'd seen her be both selfish and selfless. Especially in regards to him. He didn't know why she bothered with him. All this talk of running away with her and staying together—what was the point in that?

Back then, when he awoke in that strangers bed in an unfamiliar room, wearing clothes that weren't his and holding Ruka in his arms… Back then his mind was already made up. He'd already decided what to do, how to do it, and when. Anomaly had stared over Ruka's shoulder, his eyes accepting. He'd known as well—Like Dragon he was anything but happy about it. Once the rain started to die down, Anomaly had pulled him outside to argue against it.

 _"Don't do this."_ He'd begged.

 _"Leave it alone."_ Dragon ordered. His eyes were dead, light less. Adamant.

 _"You must not do this."_ Anomaly pleaded, oversized hands curling into fists. _"It is suicide. No—it is worse than death."_

 _"None of your business."_ Dragon replied stoically.

 _"Please."_ He'd begun his last argument. _"At least allow me to help you—"_

Sparks had flown into Dragon's eyes then, pulling his gaze up in a sharp glare. Absolutely not. He wouldn't—couldn't trust this stranger. He had no idea who he is or where he'd come from or what his objectives were. Even if Anomaly explained everything, Dragon wouldn't believe him. Not anymore. Not with all the lies he'd heard and all the truths behind him.

Anomaly must have seen that. Grievously, he turned and disappeared into the island woods; melding with their shadows. Gone for good, never to return.

Dragon returned to the mirror, taking a deep breath as he went. Now placed in front of the glass again, he eyed the black scarf around his neck. It was a gift from that old psychic back on Paati. Something her dead husband had worn. Something which Sakazuki had found unsettling.

 _"Why are you wearing that scarf?"_ He'd asked after calling Dragon out of his temporary guest room.

 _"I know."_ Dragon replied sarcastically. _"You'd think I toss it in the sea where it belongs."_

Sakazuki scoffed at that. _"You don't wear scarves. Or neck braces. Or anything that covers up your neck besides hoods. It reminds you of the blue scarf_ they _burned."_

That had touched a nerve with Dragon—not the reminder of what had been done to the blue scarf he'd mostly forgotten. Just the fact that _this man_ , his _friend_ now _one of them_ would bring it up again. He'd laughed through his nose at Sakazuki's pettiness and marched back inside his room.

He blinked at the reflection in the mirror and tugged the scarf down. It unfolded from around his neck and hit the floor. A pile of loose cloth.

The vast majority of his neck was covered in the purple and black bruises. Shaped like giant hands, the depth of their damage being felt all the way to the back of his neck. It was as if Monkey D. Garp—his father—was still trying to strangle him.

Dragon flinched, causing a twinge in his left shoulder to be felt with full force. He beat on the area with his fist. He couldn't help the pathetic reaction to any thought of that man. Monkey D. Garp's agonized expression, an echoed over-played repeat of his call— _"Dragon?!"_ —never left Dragon. Not since he'd ran from the man. From all three men.

They were a cause for concern. Garp knew the truth now. Just as Dragon knew. Would Garp be angry with the World Government? Would he turn the ship around, return to Marine HQ just to shout at the fleet admiral? Would he turn his back on his friends and comrades? Would they kill him for it?

Dragon knew he couldn't make Garp a priority. Not with him hundreds of miles away and on their side. Not with Ruka's protection already at the forefront of his mind. But was it wrong that he didn't want that man to die?

Yes. Of course it was. Should it come down to it he'd have to kill him. Dragon knew that. He couldn't hesitate, couldn't doubt his resolve. If he failed Ruka would be murdered. If Ruka died then everything was over.

A newer, fresher concern was Sazu's warning. Hours old, it was delivered along with Dragon and Ruka once they reached the Sabaody archipelago. Whatever you're thinking of doing—Don't. Dragon had shrugged at the man, making him turn a mad red that couldn't be healthy. Sazu really ought to work on his temper.

Now, staring at the bruises, Dragon felt another twinge of uncertainty. Did he have the strength to do what he needed to do? He had to. If not, then he would never reach the other side of this void. He had to, he had to.

He recovered the scarf from the floor and wrapped it around his throat, pulling the ends down to tighten it around his throat. Another flash of empty, aching pain shot through his throat like a bundle of arrows and he half crumpled, catching himself on the sink. His collar bone cracked three times in his ears, snapping like a twig underfoot. With a low groan, he pulled himself to his feet. He massaged his throat through the scarf and tried to take a deep breath, only to end up in a coughing fit. _Ungh…_

The pain forced the uncertainty to accumulate once more. He didn't want to do it. He couldn't stand the thought. Just considering it, knowing how soon everything would go down, made him feel like his bones were dissolving and he was slowly losing the ability to hold himself up. His sense of reason was failing him. Overwhelming wishful thinking and selfishness crashed down on him. In mind, he heard a pained howl of _Nooooooo…_

He _didn't_ want to. Please, anything but that.

His eyes felt moist, and he blinked profusely. The steam, he told himself, it's only the steam.

"Dragon!" Ruka cheered from outside the bathroom, her voice accompanied by the sound of feet rushing across the plush carpet to throw the pearl-white bathroom door open. She leaned, half-in and half-out, one hand gripping the ivory frame and the other still curled around the brass knob. Her ear to ear smile felt more bright than the blinding bathroom lights or the sun for that matter. Her wide eyes glowed, sparkling with joy.

"Dragon, Dragon!" She danced over to him, or skipped, and took his hand as he straightened up to give her a look of blank questioning. She hopped up and down, rubbing the callouses on his fingers. "Dragon, there's bubbles everywhere! And there's this yummy food smell! But everyone's already running around and—"

Dragon put a hand up, and she curled her lips back.

"The bubbles were there this morning, when we walked here." He pointed out, letting his hand drop and giving her a half-joking reprimanding look. "You didn't notice?"

Ruka suddenly looked uncomfortable. She blinked, glancing around the room. "Uhhhh" was her vague reply.

Vague or spot on? Dragon frowned. She'd been watching him _very_ closely.

Ruka threw her arm out behind her, pointing out to the balcony. "It's amazing, seriously! I'm glad we came here!"

Dragon's eyes softened, but he powered through and gave her a weak half-smile.

"You've never been here with your crew?" He asked as he led the way out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and out onto the balcony.

"No, Flint's not interested in One Piece." Ruka answered with a proud grin. "So most of the crew's never been to the Grand Line. We only recently decided to go because Bonnie wanted to see what the greatest sea in the world is like. He can't refuse her anything."

"It sounds like they're together." Dragon said as he approached the edge of the balcony, grabbing the railing.

"Oh they are! I was pissed! I almost cut his tongue out and everything!" She informed with a cheerful laugh.

Dragon gave her a wary expression. "You just said something morbid in a cheerful voice."

Ruka stepped up to the balcony's edge and looked out over the island. The bustling people, carrying bubbles of luggage and shopping. The kids running around. The pink and orange soap bubble air, the mangroves and shops. Just like everyone before her, Ruka was enthralled by the beauty of the archipelago.

But Dragon had been raised in the world's darkness. He naturally noticed the things she had yet to spot. The suspicious characters lurking in the alleys, who were likely human traffickers on the lookout for their next meal ticket. The gangs of criminals maneuvering through the crowd with greedy looks on their faces. The marines in disguise who sat outside criminal bars.

It all left very sour taste in his mouth.

"So, hey, not that I'm complaining," Ruka began in a curious tone, getting Dragon's expectant attention, "But what are we doing here? I mean, you even sent those marine guys away. Good riddance to them, but what's our purpose here?"

Dragon's expression melted into one of sympathy. He turned to Ruka, keeping his tone matter-of-fact as he spoke.

"This is a hot spot for World Government officials." Dragon told her. "Some of them come here on missions, or for vacations. But we aren't here for them."

"Who then?" Ruka asked, folding her arms behind her backs.

"The celestial dragons."

Ruka's face twitched, eyes popping with disgust and lower lip curling back. A low, nearly inaudible growl escaped her before she choked it down and clamped her teeth together.

Dragon nodded. "They frequent this place. Mostly to shop for new slaves. They've been doing it for a while. I know because I've had to tag along multiple times, as a guard."

Ruka frowned in grief. "The slave shops…"

Dragon cast her a curious look, but looked back to the island scenery. "If they happen to be here, which is likely given their last few visits and the time of year, then we can get them to give us a ride up to Mariejois. If not, well, I have several plans."

"What do they look like?" Ruka asked.

Dragon was surprised by the steadiness of her voice. But when he looked at her, hey face appeared empty and her eyes dead. It was unsettling to say the least.

"I've never seen 'em before…" She said, almost apologetically, "The celestial dragons…"

Dragon frowned. He didn't like this behavior, even if he understood it.

"They wear bulky, overbearing white suits and air masks," He described calmly, "And their hair is pulled up, curled at the top."

Ruka's lower lip quivered, but she bit down on it and curled both lips back.

Dragon gripped the railing, crushing it in his grasp. Don't be afraid, he wanted to say, they won't touch you.

"Since we have to look for them anyway, let's explore the island." He proposed, smiling. "Where do you want to go? I'll treat you."

She perked up immediately. "Really?!"

Dragon nodded, relieved. "Sure."

"Let's go there then!" She threw herself over the railing, both hands pointing out at the Ferris wheel. "Over there! I want to ride it!"

Dragon chuckled at her, and in no time at all they were in the streets, headed towards the Ferris wheel. He almost regretted telling her he'd treat her to anything she'd like. Ruka stopped every two feet to down whole platters of free samples and then proceeded to buy five to ten boxes of whatever that particular stand was selling. After fitting it all into bubbles which Ruka could pull along on strings, he told her point-blank that she couldn't have any more until the bubbles were empty. Dragon actually thought they were making some progress as they continued towards the Ferris wheel until he heard the disgusting breaking and munching going on behind him and looked to see Ruka eating the treats by the box, throwing the garbage back in the bubbles when she was done.

Dragon gave her a look of frowning disapproval. Ruka stared back at him, questioning him with her gaze as she ate through three more boxes.

"Wuz wong? Wets wit woving!" She ordered, swallowing the last of the third box. "The line's going to be long you know."

Dragon continued to frown at her.

She got irritated. "What?! What is it?!"

"I'm just observing this once-in-a-lifetime display of female gluttony." Dragon remarked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've only ever seen fat happy kings eat like this. Then again, you are gender confused—"

Ruka threw an empty box at him. He tilted his head, catching it between his fingers.

"I'm not gender confused, got it!" She yelled, turning her nose up at him. "I've always known exactly who I am."

Dragon chucked the empty box in a nearby trashcan. He took in the wide berth the surrounding tourists and civilians were giving them. It wasn't out of fear. Even though the people didn't notice them thanks to Dragon's shadow-walk, they're instincts told them to be afraid.

"I have trouble believing that." He continued. "If I recall, when we first met you were dressed up like a male pirate and drowning in ten layers of clothing—"

Ruka stomped over to him, standing on her tiptoes to get in his face.

"Those were gifts from my sister!" She informed him furiously. "And I had my reasons for pretending, got it!"

"Okay." Dragon remarked, turning on his heel. Ruka's hand lashed out, snatching his wrist.

"Fine I'll tell you!" She decided.

"I didn't ask." Dragon responded, feeling embarrassed for her.

"My mother was a whore." She began, letting go of his wrist and folding her arms behind her back.

Dragon grimaced. "Well that's pretty harsh."

"I'm not saying it to be mean! I mean _officially_. A _professional_ whore!"

Dragon's gaze swung to the left; What should he make of this?

"That doesn't really make it better." He commented.

Ruka shrugged and walked on, taking the lead. Dragon followed after her, hands shoved in his pockets.

"I don't remember it all _that_ well." She began, sounding a tad unsure. "But there are these particular memories that are more… aggressive. Sharper. I think that's because they made me mad. Anyway, mama wasn't the only one. Our country was pretty poor and lacked resources. The only way to get tradesmen and money was to offer some kind of… Entertainment. I don't know when it began but all the girls started dressing up and dancing for foreigners, and it all went downhill from there. In our country, if you were a pretty girl you were expected to go into the business as early as possible. Mom was an orphan, so she started out when she was twelve. They called her Adelaide. Not her real name, she gave that up for something frilly to attract more guys and more money. Most of the dancers had names like that. Nicolette, Henrietta, Alexandria, etc. In foreign, ancient kingdoms they were the names of princesses. At home, they were whore's names. That's why mom gave my sister and I frilly names too: Antoinette and Bonnie."

Dragon narrowed his eyes.

 _Antoinette. I hate it. Don't call me that! Please!_

Well… He got the feeling he understood now why Ruka hated her real name. Too bad though. He'd met a Nicolette once; the wife of a King's advisor. They were both good people. He'd hated to kill them…

"What a joke right?" Ruka said, laughing darkly. She spoke faster, as if she had trouble getting through it all. Or perhaps she didn't want to say any of it. "Like just their name was supposed to make them clean and dignified. Anyway, what made mom popular was that she didn't just fool around with them, she handled them. Brought 'em into the house, let them eat at the table with me and Bonnie. But she was doing that even before we came along. Sometimes the guys would become attached to her and stick around a while. Two of them even married her. The first was my Pops, only he left his wife and child to be with mom. Then I came along, but by that time he'd already lost interest and returned to his real family. Broke mom's heart. She took care of me for a while, but by the time I was three I already knew the basics of fending for myself. Mom repeated the disaster with Bonnie's dad, who lost interest when Bonnie was two and ran off to who-knows-where. Bonnie just kept his name 'cause it was better than having no name at all. But mom was real messed up, having her heart-broken twice and being in and out of the whorehouses every day. She stopped paying attention to us, other than having us sit at the table when men came over. She always told us to be 'little ladies' when there was 'company around.' Made me sick. One day I lost it. It happened because one of them hit Bonnie for breathing after she drank milk. Bonnie was always hungry and thirsty, she wolfed everything down without a breath. But that didn't matter. What mattered was after he hit Bonnie, Mama just sort of… Laughed nervously. She jokingly told the guy some stupid excuse for Bonnie's behavior. I looked at Bonnie, my baby sister, bleeding on the floor and crying, and the stupid drunk leaning over the table, and my pathetic mother and just…" Ruka stopped talking for a moment. Dragon watched her back turn rigid, heard the clacking of gnashed teeth. "I grabbed my bowl and threw the hot soup in his eyes. He got mad and started smacking me around too, but the table got knocked over in all the mess and I was able to grab a knife and stab him in the eye. He stumbled out of the house, blind. Then I grabbed Bonnie and yelled at mom for being so useless. I ran away from the house with her and stole some medicine from a marine ship. It took a few weeks for our injuries to heal. Then I went back, telling Bonnie to stay hidden, and found the house in ashes. There were no bones anywhere no matter how I looked. I'm sure some slave traders stole her then burned the house to cover it up. That sort of thing happened a lot. She's probably dead. Probably. Still I figured something out then. So long as I wasn't being a 'perfect little lady' I could put up one hell of a fight!"

When she finished, he expected her to start panting. She'd said it all in two, three breaths tops. But her breathing was even.

Dragon frowned at this, his expression bleak. Ruka looked over her shoulder, eyes full of pride. Perhaps she was expecting wholehearted agreement or nodding encouragement or maybe even pride. When she saw only pained disapproval, her shuffling feet slid to a stop.

"What?" She asked, astonished and edging towards defensive.

Dragon stopped, closed his eyes. "Of all the people I killed, the women were especially difficult. Not because they were pitiful and weak, but exactly the opposite. They put up more fight than anyone. Even if it was all in vain, I admired them for their courage."

"So?" Ruka asked, pouting.

"Even if you were afraid to be seen as weak, it wouldn't have mattered unless that was what you actually were. There was never any need to lie to yourself. Or to anyone else."

Ruka twisted, self-righteous. "You don't have to put it that way!"

"I say it because I think you've done a lot more damage to yourself with your lies than your mother did to herself in allowing so many people to trample her. If you fall in a crowd, and you're too weak to get back up, getting trampled is almost guaranteed. But if you're cutting yourself, you can always put down the knife."

"You think I'm cutting myself?!"

"You… And your sister. What do you think it must have been like to call her sister a 'brother'?"

Ruka flinched, dawning astonishment in her expression. Dragon watched sympathetically as she bowed her head, burying her face in her hands. She was crying. Out of regret, shame, and guilt.

Dragon placed a gentle hand on her head, feeling her dry, straw-colored hair. She looked small for once. In spirit but not it form.

He looked away, not because the sight of her crying was unsettling but to give her the respect of not seeing those tears. The sound of her sobs was drowned out by the human chatter of Sabaody's civilians. Noise, noise, noise. He always hated the noise. Still, if you plugged your ears and sat in a dark corner, you could drown most of the noise out.

"It's all noise." He told her, repeating the silent chant he used to use to get to sleep. "Just turn down the volume."

He waited to see if she'd heard him. After a moment, she nodded, lifting her wet and swollen face out of her hands. She laughed through clenched teeth, her eyes squeezed shut, caught between brokenness and joy.

"Young lady!" Called a youthful, unfamiliar voice. "Over here!"

Dragon looked, with Ruka drying her eyes. Through the crowd he saw a small booth with a sign that said Miracle Stylist in bold, bright, painted lettering. Inside the booth stood a young woman with long, flowing red that glistened in the waning sunlight. She was waving to them—to Ruka—with one hand and gesturing them forward with the other.

Dragon and Ruka exchanged questioning looks. Dragon turned to walk off, but felt Ruka grab the edge of his sleeve and pull him toward the booth much to his dismay. The bright, hopeful expression was like a thin mask. It failed to hide the sheer desperation which was the red head's true feelings. The sort of desperation that only belonged to those in the marketing business when they failed to gather the appropriate quota of customers.

Only when they were right in front of the booth did Dragon notice the pictures pinned all over the inner walls of the booth. Women with long flowing hair, men with thick, curled moustaches, and other people who looked like gorillas. He recoiled, disgusted by the business.

"Hey there, lady!" Grinned the red-haired woman. "Your hair's insanely short! Want it any longer?"

Ruka's brow knit. "What are you talking about?"

The merchant woman raised both hands and wriggled her fingers at Ruka. "I ate a devil fruit! The hair-hair fruit! I can control hair at will."

Dragon narrowed his eyes. What a stupid power. He looked at Ruka's hand clutching his sleeve and contemplated dragging her away from this weird woman. On the other hand, Ruka with long hair…

As he was mulling this over, the "miracle stylist" was explaining her ability to Ruka, who looked stumped.

"I can make it longer, shorter!" The merchant woman raised one finger, then two for emphasis. "I can focus on the locks growing out of your head, or make every hair on your body grow! Don't ask me why people want that, I've no idea! Anyway, what do you think? You'd be much prettier with longer hair!"

Ruka paused, humming as she thought it over. She raised her hand, brushing it over her hairline and around to the nape of her neck. She pinched one of the chopped ends of her straw-like hair strands.

"Sorry, I'll pass." She decided, earning a halfway cross look from Dragon as she waved absent-mindedly at the merchant woman. "Thanks for the offer though."

They walked away, resuming their trek to the great Ferris wheel. Dragon watched the red-haired woman's head dip in disappointment. Ruka stretched her arms, mussed her short, straw-colored hair and smoothed it back into place before folding her arms behind her head.

Dragon frowned at her. "Do you have something against devil fruit powers?"

Ruka looked up at honestly, blankly. "No, why? Oh. You wanted me to let her grow my hair out?"

"I do remember making that request." He said pointedly..

"Do you not like my short hair?" She asked, sincere.

Not like? No. He did like it, it suited her. That wasn't the point though. Luke Read had short hair, and he'd tried to kill Luke Read. He wasn't trying to forget his actions. Ruka was a woman. He didn't want her to cling to anything which tied her to lifelong personal lies. That, and her hair made her resemble her alter ego, whose face was plastered onto wanted posters all over the East Blue.

"It's fine." Dragon said, truthfully. "But… You should grow it out. It will look nice. And your sister will be happy about it too."

Ruka laughed, a touch of grim hopelessness hidden in the echo. "Yeah, but when am I ever going to see Bonnie again?"

Dragon frowned at her. _Soon_ , he wanted to say. _Very soon_. She lowered her arms, smoothing them with her hands to hide the shakings. He wanted to take her hand, to lace their fingers together. Ruka, Ruka…

"Don't worry about my hair!" She told him, grinning. "I'll grow it out. You'll see it eventually!"

He nodded absent-mindedly. His fingers twitched, so he curled them and stuffed his fist in his pocket.

When they reached the Ferris Wheel, Ruka groaned in annoyance. The waiting line was so long it stretched to the Sabaody Park Entrance and back. Security was stationed at accurate intervals up and down the line, their arms outstretched as they tried to keep the park tourists from cutting.

Ruka frowned deeply and moved towards the head of the line. No way would a pirate wait patiently for what they wanted.

Dragon put an arm out to stop her and she directed her deep frown at him. Before she could say anything, he handed her his licensed CP0 travel papers and directed her to the nearest security officer. She went, ogling the papers curiously. Dragon waited, arms crossed over his chest, knowing that the authorities this close to Marine HQ would know better than to go against a CP0 operative, which Ruka was now pretending to be. The jumpy, skinny security officer took one bug-eyed look at the papers and started ushering her to the front. Dragon laughed through his nose. The officer hadn't even bothered to check the ID. He'd been too frightened. Dragon never thought he'd be grateful to his reputation for anything.

Dragon followed, unnoticed, in Ruka's shadow. They were welcomed into the giant soap-bubble and the door shut behind them. Inside, the bubble was like a dome with a platform ringed by cushioned seats suspended inside. Dragon eyed the cushioned seats, wrinkling his nose at them. They smelled like the fragrance he'd thrown out that morning. He exhaled impatiently and took a seat on the floor, crossing his arms behind his head and folding his legs together.

Ruka let go off her luggage and it floated across the dome, bobbing to a stop on the other side. She went to sit on her knees in one of the seats closest to the entrance. She pressed her face against the bubble-dome and placed her hands against the soap. Her face lit up, an ear-to-ear grin and sparkling eyes taking in the birds-eye-view of the nighttime Sabaody Archipelago.

Dragon took 25 Beri coins out of his pocket—where'd he get the small change?—and began tossing and catching them over and over. Ruka giggled by the window. He looked at her, noticing with a jolt that he was smiling. Content.

Or he was until he remembered what he was doing here in the first place. The smile faded, and he gripped the coins in his hands until they melded into useless shapes.

Ruka knocked her head against the bubble. "This is amazing! I always wondered what it would be like to ride one of these. There's a busted up one in my hometown. Bonnie and I used to climb it so we could spy on all the baddies."

Dragon nodded, choosing not comment. Why was she getting so… Personal? She'd always been chatty around him, but her speeches were focused on her crew, or Dragon herself…

Ah. So she was trying to keep him focused on her. She wanted him to see everything but what was going on inside his head.

He felt the gratitude swell in his chest, and he crushed the coins in his hand beyond repair. They broke into shards. He clutched one of his tense knees.

"This must be a treat for a gender-confused pirate woman like yourself." He commented, and dodged another thrown/emptied snack box. She had strode across the ferry just to fetch one and throw it at him.

She stood half-crouched, elbows tucked in and fists clenched.

"I said I'm not gender confused!" She declared, embarrassed and indignant. "Ya big, deaf jerk face!"

Dragon rolled his eyes, leaned into raised seats. Her insults were so childish he just couldn't take them seriously.

Outside, their little pod was circumnavigating through the air. Inside, it was dark. Sunset was over. Night had arrived. The city lights created shadows within shadows and they melded on the floor, encompassing Ruka. She was becoming annoyed at Dragon who was flicking the broken chips of the beri coins into the air, catching them between his fingers, and tossing them back up so he could catch them with his other hand.

Dragon, taunting her, said with a smirk: "Oh? I don't suppose you have proof of that?"

"What, proof you're a jerk face?" Ruka started, self-righteously. "Yeah, I've got lots. First of all—"

Dragon caught the chips in his open palm with an air of finality, grasping them into beads and stuffing them back in his pocket.

"Not that." He said dismissively. "I meant proof that you aren't gender-confused."

Ruka stared at him, stumped. Her raised finger slumped and she crossed her arms, tilting her head at him.

"Y-You want proof of that?" She asked. She'd stuttered. How out of character. She looked shocked too.

Dragon laughed, proud of himself. "Sure."

Not that it mattered. There was no such proof. It was impossible.

He was still smirking when she sat next down next to him. The small action made his eyes snap open in alarm. Contrary to a moment before, she appeared frazzled, steady. Prepared. There was a look in her eyes like _You asked for it._

"What are you—" He began. But he never finished. In the blink of an eye, she'd thrown her arm out, fingers spread like she was about to slash his throat open with her fingernails. He stiffened in spite of himself, and felt her fingertips tug at the scarf, pulling it down until it lay across his lap.

Her fingertips brushed over his jugular, an action that forced a hiss of pain from his throat. The bruising was especially heavy there. His reaction moved her hand from his throat to his head. Her fingers slipped under his hood and combed themselves through the back of his hair. Before he knew it, she'd pulled him down at the same time she'd raised herself up to sit on her knees, knocking their foreheads together. He gasped through his nose, and then she pressed his mouth over his.

The lights flickered off. Ruka paid it no mind, and he barely noticed at all. His last thought was a silent, questioning gasp. His brain shut off and he blinked his eyes shut. The world shrank, becoming a small bubble ferry framed by a black blur.

His aching head stopped throbbing. His heavy arms lightened. His fingers twitched.

Her heart beat like a hummingbird's. It raced across from his own, and his palms clenched as she pressed herself against him.

His arms moved on their own, disconnected from his powered-down mind, and wrapped themselves around her thin but muscled frame. She felt exactly as she looked: soft on the outside, with underlying strength. He moved his hands back, squeezing her strong upper arms.

She pushed him up against the short wall, and a small section of his mind sparked and hissed, struggling to come alive. There was something wrong. Wrong? Yes, he was forgetting something of vital importance…

He shoved the thought away, not caring. Not with his arms full and the gaping crater in his chest filled. Not with her smell enveloping and soothing him. All his worries were forgotten. Why should he let go? What did he owe anyone…?

She was sitting in his lap. When did that happen? He didn't care. He pulled her closer, held her. She was going a little too far with the kissing. He felt like he was drowning again, but in a good way. Far better than the half-dead, strangled drowning…

His mind flickered back on, eyes popping wide open, hands and arms falling to his sides. Ruka stiffened and pulled away, her little humming-bird heartbeat fading from an echoed boom to a barely audible drumming. She kept her hands on her shoulders and looked at him curiously, longingly, as he looked away from her. Haunted. Horrified.

Just for a moment, he'd forgotten.

Remembering was agonizing. A knife to the heart. This wasn't part of the plan. He shouldn't do this...

Ruka looked at him with an expression close to understanding. She untangled her fingers from his hair and slid out of his lap. She stretched her arms out, as if she were just waking up.

"There! Is that proof enough for you?" She demanded, not looking at him as she let her arms fall to her sides. He sensed she was put out—to put it mildly.

He hesitated, then gave her a pointed frown. He got up from the floor and went to sit on the other bench at the opposite side of the ferry, falling into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. His frown was now directed at the floor. He blinked the wistfulness from his eyes.

"Why are you sitting way over there?" She asked curiously, tilting her head.

"It's a precaution." He replied curtly.

"Against what?"

 _"You."_

"What did I do?"

"You touched me without permission. Never do that again." The words were empty, unfulfilled.

"Ehhhh?" Ruka said, highly annoyed. "But we've already done plenty of touching."

Dragon's entire body twitched. "Watch how you word things."

"Hmmmm," Ruka tapped her finger against her cheek. "Are you the shy type?"

Dragon's teeth clanked together. He threw a knife at her, aiming it perfectly so that it came within two centimeters of grazing her ear before burying itself in the wall behind her. She didn't even flinch.

"Hmph!" She pouted, pulling her knees up to her chest, resting her elbows on top of her knees, and dropping her head into her hands. "Why are you so grumpy? Not my fault you didn't think before you spoke!"

"What are you talking about?" He grumbled, letting his hand fall.

"You asked for proof and I gave you some!" She said defensively.

Dragon rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. "That—isn't—what—I—meant."

"What other proof is there?!" Ruka demanded, annoyed.

Dragon felt a serious, embarrassed expression dawn on him. He was _not_ answering that question. It might give her even more drastic ideas.

Ruka sighed, realizing he'd gone silent. She took a deep breath. He wouldn't look at her again, but he could feel her eyes on him. Hard, worried, sad eyes. She blinked profusely—so quiet was their bubble dome that he could hear the brush of her lashes. She shifted in her seat, pushing herself to her feet and approaching him. He looked up at her—warning her not come any closer. She stopped. The message was received.

She blinked, desperate and took one step further. Her hands rubbed her forearms.

"Dragon of moonlight…" She addressed, speaking to him, and he tensed as she spoke her next words _"Daisuki desu."_

His gaze swiveled, zeroing in on her. What on _earth_ was she trying to do?

"So _please_ don't give up yet." She continued, opening her eyes to look at him pleadingly.

"Give up what?" He asked, morose and staring at the floor again.

Ruka's fingers tangled themselves in the hem of her shirt.

"Freedom…!" She said, her tone rich and breathless. "I know how important it is to you not to die their dog! I'm not that smart! I can't figure out what it is you're not telling me—"

 _It has nothing to do with intelligence._ Dragon thought grimly.

"—But I know whatever happened on that last island in West Blue pushed you over the edge. I don't know what you're planning or what you're up to, but please! I don't care who your enemy is! Let me help you! If you don't want to run anymore, let's fight them together! Let me call my crew here! Whatever you need! Just please, ask me already! _Ask_ for my help!"

Dragon shook his head solemnly. No. He wouldn't do that. She was more valuable than she realized, as were her captain, crew, and sister. More valuable than all the berries in the world. Because—

"I'll do anything for you!" She promised, unyielding.

He glared at her. "Stop that."

The words were harsh and demanding. A slap in the face. She took it without flinching. Just like the knife.

The bubble dome came to a stop. The door opened, and Dragon slid to his feet, striding out in a false, self-righteous anger. Ruka raced out behind him, brave in the face of adversity. She raced after him, leaping to catch up with him.

Panting, she careened to a stop in front of him. He stopped merely out of respect. Whatever she did now wouldn't stop him from doing what he needed to do. His mind was made up.

"Just one more day!" She begged, not looking at him. "Can we forget about them for one more day?"

"No." He answered, stoic and unmoving.

"One night?" She shouted, pleading.

"No."

Her expression twisted into one of hopeless dejection. She threw her arms around him, and he shook his head at her, distressed.

"It's your goal to trouble me up until the very last moment." He said. It was a statement of fact.

"Just one more moment? Please!" She begged.

He felt a tightness in his chest at the sound of her begging. It was literally, physically painful. He could so easily imagine leaving it all behind. Disappearing with her. No more assignments, no more Gorosei or Tenryuubito. Just a small amount of fleeting and temporary peace. _Why_ was the idea so tempting…?

He really never wanted to see them again. He was more afraid than ever. But he also _did_ want to see them, just so he could do all that he needed to do.

Losing _her_ just so he could see _them_. What wasteful, stupid goals he had.

"One more moment." He agreed, and the halfway lit expression of gratitude made him want to take it all back and march away.

Ruka heard him, and it was like music to her ears. From her perspective his small promise had the sea's depth. How he wished he could take it back. It was so wrong to give her hope. The object in his pocket seem to double in weight.

"We should go." He said dismissively, taking a step around her. Her hand lashed out, taking his hand in hers and pulling him along back to their bubble hotel room.

They weaved through the crowds, now thinned by the night. Ruka focused on leading them, but Dragon's eyes flitted here and there. He caught glimpses of shadowed silhouettes grouped together liked sardines in average corners. He felt eyes on him wherever they went. It felt like they knew everything. He was being paranoid. Or Anomaly was somewhere in this crowd.

His eyes narrowed at that prospect. After that, he paid better attention.

Ruka was fast for being so small. They reached their bubble hotel room in no time at all. As soon as her fingers brushed the door knob, lightning crackled through the air above the mangroves. Thunder boomed. The sky split open and a blinding downpour bombarded the sunny, bubbly, "paradise" town.

Ruka threw the door open and ducked inside, pulling her in after him. They stood on the plush carpet, dripping wet as Ruka half leaned on the door with her head pressed into the core of his chest.

"Better?" Dragon asked, hoping against hope that she would say no.

She whipped her head up—"Yes!"—grinning through her tears for the second time that day.

"Are you relieved or something?" Dragon asked with an antagonistic shake of his head.

"Relieved?" She asked. "Maybe. A while back I thought I might be jealous of people I care about. But there's no need for that anymore!"

Dragon knit his brow, not understanding, and becoming somewhat alarmed when Ruka fell to her knees, tugging him into a crouching position.

"You need water." He decided, scooping her up in his arms. She was as light as a pillow to him. He deposited her into the sofa chair and tossed the folded napkin from the bedside table in her lap.

"Dry off." He ordered. "You look like you're about to melt away."

Ruka curled in on herself, stretched and yawned. "I'm so stiff! Hey, you! You make me stiff!"

He laughed, half-smiling at her joke as he stepped around the bed to the kitchen. "I've been told I have that effect on people."

"It's not something to be proud of!" Ruka snapped, leaning out of her chair before throwing herself back. She picked up the napkin and pressed it to her face, patting her skin dry through the napkin. "I'm saying you're too serious! You're so serious you make everyone around you feel uptight and stiff! You need to work on being more casual!"

Dragon laughed again. He slipped through a doorway to the small kitchen. Marble counters, glistening tiles, and sleek metal appliances glared up at him. He went to the fridge, tall and chrome and reflective, and opened it.

There were several useless gourmet cheeses, labeled containers from room service with various balanced meals inside. Boxed fruit marinating in honey filled the lower drawers. Jars of caviar garlic spread, and different jams lined the shelves of the door. Pitchers of juice, wine, tea and water sat on the lowest shelf. He reached through and took out the water pitcher. He had no desire to taste any of the food. Images of fat, wicked world nobles scarfing down similar staples filled his mind and robbed him of his appetite. He recovered a decent-sized tea-cup from the nearest counter and filled it with the clear refreshment.

He placed both cup and pitcher on the counter. As he eyed them, he felt his gaze narrow and a feverish headache began to develop between his eyes. His fists clenched, nails digging deep into his palms. He bit the inside of his cheek until his mouth filled with blood and he had to spit a mouthful into the sink.

He needed to wash it down. He reached for the faucet handle but froze; his gaze swerved to the cup and pitcher.

He could do it. He could throw the plan down the drain. He could walk out to her and tell her the truth. He could tell her… He never wanted to return to the Holy Land. He never wanted to see the Gorosei, the tenryuubito, or Sakazuki ever again. She could have as much time as she needed. He could let her lead him far away from Mariejois. They could disappear together, start over, forget their past. To hell with the world, the World Government. To hell with the Pirate Era. What good had any of it ever done?

He felt his chest heaving, saw his long fingers reach out to take the cup. He froze again.

His teeth clanked together. Dammit. Damn it all… How could anything be worth more than her? Couldn't he be selfish just this once? Why did he have to take responsibility for their actions? Why?

He remembered the perfume bottle. Surely it shattered into a million pieces when it fell. The cup was just as fragile. He could just let everything fall apart and save this one person. The one person who'd ever done anything for him was right in the other room. Why should she be the one to break for them?

He was shaking, infuriated. Ruka… Ruka was worth any sacrifice…

"Dragoooooon?" She called curiously, jolting him awake. "What's up? You've been in there for over ten minutes."

"No I haven't." He argued. It had been a few moments.

"Yes you have." Ruka insisted. "There's a clock right here. I've watched it."

He winced at that. She was watching the clock, waiting on him. Had she any idea the effect she had when she said things like that?

"What's wrong?" She asked, as sincere as always. "Need some help?"

"No, stay there." He replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling his clenched fist back. He unfurled his fingers, staring at the vile full of disgusting, glittery purple crumbs. Before he had time to hesitate again, he uncorked it and turned it upside down over the glass. The crumbs descended in a coil to the bottom of the cup, disintegrating into bubbly steam as they went. By the time the last shards reached the bottom, the smoke at the top had changed from purple to clear. The rest of the steam changed rapidly, with the last of the shards disintegrating. In the end what was left was a perfectly ordinary-looking cup of water. Ordinary in smell, taste, appearance. A perfect, inescapable act of deceit.

"Dragon…?" Ruka called vaguely from the other room. He heard the sounds of pressure leaving stuffed furniture.

"I'm coming." He said, an inaudible warning of _stay_ _there_ in his tone. He frowned at the teacup, hating it, but taking it in his hands and stalking back to her side.

She greeted him with a trusting, caring, befuddled grin. The teacup shrank in his eyes and he felt the need to crush it between his fingers like a grape. Miniscule. A small twist of his thumb would crush it. Overly extravagant, seemingly beneficial, but clearly toxic in his eyes. A palm-sized model of the World Government? Regardless, both the cup and the World Government had their fates resting rather conveniently—from Dragon's perspective—in Dragon's hands.

Ruka stretched, her thin limbs draped over the cushioned arm-chair like a blanket. Her smile rippled, she squinted her eyes—signs of sleep threatening to take over.

Oh, how he wished it could.

He half-knelt, careful in giving her the cup. She pouted at it, resting it on top of her palm with a suspicious glare. For a split second he thought she'd found him out. Thought or hoped.

"Why's it so small?" She grumbled.

Dragon sighed—disappointment or relief?—and stood.

"It's meant for hot tea." He informed her, taking a seat on the edge of the bed across from her. "That's pretty much all they drink."

Ruka stared at it some more, leaving Dragon hanging in breathless anticipation.

"Drink it." He ordered, crossing his arms over his chest and falling back onto the bed. His head sank through the satin pillows; they were plush and cushiony, and smelled like burnt marshmallows. Maybe he'd throw them out the window too.

Ruka frowned at him, then took a sip of water. He squinted, stomach clenching, twitching hands urging him to lash out and snatch the cup away. But there was no point. Even if she didn't finish it off, it was already too late.

She took another sip, wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist.

"So what'll happen to me when we get to Mariejois?" She asked conversationally, as if she were addressing an everyday topic of conversation. Thunder boomed outside in protest to her question.

Dragon glared at the ceiling as he felt a sudden rush of returned resolve. Leave it to Ruka to remind him how important this agenda was.

"CP0 don't let prisoners relax for a moment." He began. "Maybe something simple, like the deafening chamber, or tossing you into a pool full of electric eels. Or they may give you an acid bath."

Ruka sipped her water loudly. "What's that?"

"A thousand lashings." Dragon started, then looked at her coolly. "Followed by a bath in a solution that's nine-parts salt and one-part vinegar."

Ruka nodded, as if Dragon had told her the answer to "One plus one equals…?"

"What else do they do?" Ruka asked, taking another sip. The cup was half-empty now.

"Projectile torture." He said, suppressing a wince. "They strap you to a chair and launch iron pucks at you for a few hours, if you last that long."

Ruka hummed thoughtfully, unfazed as she took another sip.

"There's blood flow torture as well." Dragon continued. "They slice open a few veins, let you slip into the danger zone. Then they have one of their men, a devil fruit user, seal you shut. Most don't survive it."

Ruka nodded, as if listening to a fascinating history lecture. She took a long slip, leaving just an ounce left.

"The blinding chamber is one of their least favorites, so they reserve it for dying slaves, wives that attempt to flee, citizens who insult them a little too loudly, and others." Dragon laced his fingers together over his stomach. Others meaning CP0 newbies who failed to complete their assignments. "They strap you to a chair, keep your eyes peeled open and your head locked in place so you're forced to stare at this blinding white light for days while a special water drips into your eyes every two seconds. It's specially made to gather moisture and spill out, making your eyes dry."

Ruka tilted her head back and held her cup upside down over her open mouth. The last drop fell in. Dragon would've sworn he heard a _thud._

"So is that what they're going to do to me?" She asked. Inquisitive. Curious. Fearless.

Dragon sat up in one fluid motion.

"No." He said. "You won't be tortured. Or interrogated."

Ruka knit her brow, failing to notice the subtle tremor gathering in her fingertips.

"What are you saying?" She asked, confused and edging towards anger.

"You won't be going to Mareijois." Dragon announced.

Ruka opened her mouth to argue, but stiffened abruptly, as if pricked by a white-hot electric shock. Her eyes popped, she threw her head back, clenching the teacup to her chest. Then she went limp, falling forward. Dragon threw himself from the bed, kneeling, catching her on his shoulder while the cup shattered on the floor.

Too bad. He'd wanted to break it himself.

The tremors ripped through the rest of her body, as if she were freezing cold. He ignored her gasping and choking as she struggled to get her jaw to work. He set her in the sofa chair and gently pushed her back, so she leaned limply into it. Her hands spasmed out, clutching at the chair arms. She peeked up at him from behind her bangs, already plastered to her face by sweat.

"W-What..." She started, twisting her head as if to look for signs that a lightning bolt shot through the room.

He knelt by her side. Calm. Collected. He played with the teacup shards.

"Relax." He said, nodding. "It'll pass soon. That was the worst of it just now."

She searched his face desperately for answers. She must have found some, because her expression went from weariness and fear to explosive, boiling rage.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS IN THAT CUP?!"

Dragon tilted his head at her, blinking away and staring back at the shards of teacup. He cupped his hand around the mess and swept them off the floor into his palm. He stood, staring at the mess. It was bone dry.

"DRAGON!" Ruka shouted, gaining some control over her hands as she gripped the arm rests. She jerked forward in alarm, clutching her throat and making deep, retching sounds.

"Sorry..." He whispered, kneeling before her, "For the pain. It'll be brief. Promise."

She craned her head, clawing at her throat. "What… The hell... Is going on…!?"

Dragon made his expression matter-of-fact. _Just treat it like any other job,_ he told himself.

"On Fishman Island, in the Sea Forest, there's a special secluded field of coral. It was found a few years back, by a special exploration team of government botanists working in tandem with Vegapunk. After running a series of tests and experiments, Vegapunk found that the coral, if swallowed, would erase memories. The higher the dosage, the more recollections lost."

As he spoke, Ruka's blank expression slowly morphed into one of shaken, horrified fury. Her wide eyes flickered shut as the sweat that gathered along her brow drifted down her face. She opened her mouth to shout at him and ended up sinking down into a fetal position. She braced her hands against her collar-bone as tears gathered behind her closed eyes.

Dragon recoiled, overwhelmed by guilt.

"Ugh… my throat…! It feels all… sliced up…!"

Her dark eyes cracked open inch by inch, pained and forced. She glared up at him with one eye from behind soaked and sweaty bangs. Just like their first meeting. Only this time, he was the one lying.

"What did you…?!" She began, pausing to hack and wretch.

"Don't make me repeat myself." Dragon said. It came out sounding more like a request than an order.

"Dragon… You didn't…" She began hesitantly, but continued in anger when she saw his bluntly admissive expression. "What was in that cup?!"

Dragon shuts his eyes, opens them in a fierce scowl. "I just told you. It's called Forget-Me-Not. A pun, sort of. You give measured doses to erase specific time lapses. It's something CP0 use on those who are too connected to kill."

"How much did you give me?!" She half-screamed, but the sound of it was almost a sob. Like a wolf caught in a bear trap; enraged and agonized.

Dragon hesitated, enough to realize he was furious with himself. He put the thought aside and looked her square in the eye:

"Enough to erase all your time with me."

Ruka paled. She shook her head slowly. Her eyes scrunched up, popped, going from tearful to angry.

"WHY?!" She demanded, her hand clawing at her chest.

"You don't listen." Dragon answered coldly, his expression reflecting heartlessness he didn't possess—not for Ruka. "I _told_ you I was the enemy. I _told_ you to run. I told you everything. Yet you stayed. That was your mistake."

"No, it wasn't!" She shouted, squeezing her eyes shut in rage. "The mistake… was trusting _you!"_

Dragon's arms locked at his side, her words echoing down to his very roots and burrowing there. "Yes… That too."

"You… Jerk!" She sobbed, shaking. How afraid she was of losing her memories. "It won't work!" She spat her threat. "You'll see! I'll retain everything! And when I wake up, I'm coming after you! And I'm going to give you such a hit!"

Dragon blinked, not believing a word. "Impossible. No one recalls anything after consuming Forget-Me-Not. Neither will you."

"What do you think you can do?!" She barked. "You _hate_ them! Earlier today you threw my lies in my face! You said lying to yourself… Was _wrong_! How can you return to them after saying all that? That's… Sick!"

"I won't continue being their dog." He informed her. The words fell from his mouth, emotionless. A sour promise which left a rancid taste in his mouth.

"Then what are you going to do?!" She demanded to know, smacking the arm-chair.

Dragon eyes were cold and hard, like steel as he gave her his answer. "I'm going to kill them."

Ruka flinched, a silent rejection.

"I'll kill as many of them as I can before they kill me." Dragon said, finally admitting everything.

Ruka's jaw dropped and she inhaled sharply. She blinked away her tears and tried to lean closer to him. She reached for him. But she coughed up a frenzy and fell back into her chair. With one hand cupped over her mouth she looked up at him. Tearful, but glowering. She fought her way back to a sitting-up position and jutted her chin out at him.

"That's suicide! You're surrendering to them!"

"No, I'm not." Dragon said with a condescending tilt of his head. "I'm liberating myself. Don't worry, you won't have to grieve over me. That's the other reason this is necessary."

"No it isn't!" Ruka insisted, so adamant in her beliefs. "You don't have to do this! Give me the antidote! I don't care who they are, I'll help you! I want to!"

Dragon waved, feeling a deep ache. He breathed shakily and looked away from her.

"Why are you doing this now, Dragon? Tell me why!" She commanded.

Dragon shook his head. "…It doesn't matter."

"YES IT DOES!" Ruka argued with finality and conviction. "If you're going to drug me and just walk off then I deserve to know WHY!"

Dragon whipped his head, glaring at her. "You were right!"

Ruka shuddered, grit her teeth. She powered through the pain induced by the drug to give him a questioning look and a shrug.

"It's because you were right." He spat through gritted teeth. "When you said they lie to _everyone_ … you were always and completely right. "

Ruka shook her head, befuddled. "What are you talking about…?"

"In West Blue! The old marine you tried to stab, the one who almost strangled me… He's my father." Dragon confessed, and Ruka jumped. "That was why he was so surprised to hear you say my real name, and why didn't he chase us when we ran. He was so horrified by the mere sight of me because for the past twenty-seven years he's believed in the Marines, in the World Government. And _they_ told him that I was dead."

Ruka shuddered as Dragon paced, ranting "They lied through their teeth with straight faces, and patted themselves on the back while preaching of justice. They robbed us of everything we could ever wish for and spat on the false graves they created for their own convenience. They played us both like tools. I have nothing!"

"That's not true!" Ruka said, livid. "I'm right here, Dragon!"

"Exactly." Dragon agreed, ceasing his pacing to meet her gaze. "You are here. And they are _not_ getting you."

Ruka gaped at him. Clearly she felt betrayed. Betrayed and disappointed.

"The day we met I claimed I _had_ to kill you." Dragon recalled, looking away and shaking his head in shame. "But you were right. No one forced me to. I made my own choices. I decided that living as their obedient little slave monster was better than being dead. I wanted to live long enough to see proof that they were wrong. I did. You are living, breathing proof that they do not always get their way. I cannot let you die."

Ruka's head was bowed, eyes overshadowed, teeth grinding. She throws her head up. "What about you? You're living, breathing proof of everything they've done wrong! If you die, then they'll be no one to make the world see the truth! So long as the masses remain in the dark they can keep lying to everyone!"

"Eventually they'll run out of people to lie to. Then the world will get the same wake-up call I did."

"IT WONT WORK!" Ruka shouted, enraged and frustrated. "Your stupid memory loss potion won't work! I'll wake up and remember you! I will!"

"That won't happen. I already told you, you won't remember me." Dragon reminded, crouching in front of her. "You won't need to sleep."

"LIAR!" She accused, waving her arms out to strike him and missing every time.

"Ruka how did we meet?" Dragon asked calmly.

Ruka went still, glowering at him. Her mouth opened, as if it were full of quick-answers and pipe dreams and impossible promises like always. When nothing came out, her eyes shifted. She searched her mind and found crushing, empty despair.

"Do you remember Eel Island Pass? The thunder-storm? The phantom? The cave?" He asked, reflecting. The beginning of their bond. Now erased.

Ruka's shaking hand drifted up. Her fingertips brushed her lower lip. Her eyes were wide, empty.

"Everything we talked about when we were alone?" Dragon prompted. He remembered every word. He remembered the one recent time when they were alone and didn't just talk. He suddenly felt very sick.

Tears flooded Ruka's eyes and spilled over like puddles in ivy leaves. The despair embraced her. Mocked her.

"I told you so much. Do you recall any of that? My childhood? My closest friend?" Dragon continued to question, seeing horrific flashes of all the horrors which plagued him. The terrible, lasting wounds which eventually led him right to his salvation. Salvation which he was forsaking now.

Ruka raised one hand to her mouth, covering it as a broken sob escaped her. She squeezed her eyes shut and raised her free hand, beating her fist against the side of her head. She'd given into despair. One final push would finish it.

"Ruka…" He began with a tone of finality. "What is my name?"

Ruka went rigid. Her head whipped up, eyes shaking with the agony only abandonment brought. She squared her shoulders, locked her shaking knees together. Hey eyes shifted so fast they were a blur. So desperate she was to find a single name. It was too late. He'd thrown a live grenade into her memory.

"Not my assassin pseudonym. My real name." He clarified. "You said it not two minutes ago?"

Ruka squeezed her eyes shut, pulled her hand away from her mouth. She sank into herself, feeling the crushing weight of realization. It was all gone, just as he'd promised her.

"Nothing." Dragon nodded knowingly.

Ruka glowered at him from behind heartbroken tears of betrayal: "… Jerk…!"

"The reason," Dragon began, "You still have a vague understanding of what we're talking about is because you can still see me. As soon as I step out of your line of sight, that's it. It'll be like waking from a bad dream and forgetting all about it."

Ruka gripped the arms and leaned forward with difficulty. "I won't look away!"

"Stop talking like you have a choice." Dragon ordered dismissively as he got to his feet and walked around her.

Ruka twisted over and around the chair's arm, keeping her eyes on him. Dragon reached the door and turned the knob. The stormy gale winds threw it open as he side-stepped the blow. There was a soft cry and a small thud, leading Dragon to look behind him. Ruka was now laying on the ground, her arm outstretched and eyes fierce as she tried to drag herself over to him.

"Don't do this!" She pleaded, saying it like it was obvious.

"It's already done." Dragon reminded her.

She gripped the carpet fibers, ripping a few out. Her teeth gnashed with such force they should have eroded away.

"THEY'LL KILL YOU!" She told him.

Dragon rolled his shoulders. "Maybe. Probably. It doesn't matter. I can't run from this. I don't have a choice anymore. This is... Bigger than me."

"THAT'S THE BIGGEST JOKE EVER TOLD!" Ruka retorted, unable to stop crying. "IF ITS TOO MUCH, THEN TAKE ME WITH YOU!"

"No." Dragon says firmly.

"Didn't you hear anything I said today…?" She cried, overcome by helplessness. "Doesn't any of that matter…?"

Dragon smiled. A genuine, weak, small smile. Everything she'd done with him and for him. Coming back for him on Eel Island Pass, rescuing from the marines. Her laughter and easygoing nature. Did any of it matter, she asked?

"…Yes." Dragon answered, watching her lift her face with a shadow of hope in her eyes. "Everything you've said and done for me… has made a world of difference."

Just like candle snuffed out in the night, her hope died. She regained her senses and continued to try to drag herself to him.

Dragon pulled his hood over his head. "Goodbye. We will not meet again."

Ruka's mouth opened in a silent scream as he stepped outside. He grabbed the knob just as she managed to get to her feet. She had to pause, bracing her long fingers against her knees. He started to close the door and she took off, tearful and furious and refusing to give up. She reached forward, her mouth forming the first syllable of his name as the door came an inch away from closing.

He leapt off just as she caught the door and let it be thrown open by the storm winds. She came to a halt at the doorway, falling to her knees. She saw a beautiful island suffer the beating of a lifetime as rain and wind threatened to rip it apart.

She blinked, confused as she touched her fingers to her eyes. She pulled her hands away to look at them but the rain had already washed her hands.

She let her hands fall and looked around. No one was with her.

"Where…" She began, frowning, "Am I…?

Dragon peered down at her from the roof, propped there like a bat. He took one last look at her, bidding a silent farewell to his "proof."

With a shudder and a ragged breath, Dragon turned and disappeared into the night.

 **00000**

 **Alright so Dragon said goodbye. This is the young, lonely, comrade-lacking Dragon whose freaking furious with the World Government for using him. And now Ruka has forgotten everything about Dragon. So they're both a little lost right now.  
**

 **What did you think of the in-title reference? I wasn't sure about that. It seemed too soon, too melodramatic. But this is Dragon's final goodbye, and since she won't remember this, it seems okay for him to be honest for once.**

 **Sorry if the quote rubs you the wrong way. I'm at that point where every other song reminds me of the pairings in my story.**

 **Please tell me if theres something wrong ith the story! A confusing part, a spelling error, incorrectly used Japanese. I read through the chapters and put them through various grammar and spelling checks but I still miss some stuff! I found a horrible mistake last chapter: a part of the first draft was mistakenly left in the final draft. I was mortified. So yeah just tell me if there's some mistake.**

 **Also: To the guest who commented: I'm operating on the "Bonnie's real age is a mystery" theory. I do this not because I have a solid belief that Bonnie is related to Luffy, but because I'm certain that Luffy's mother may have resembled Mark/Mary Read who was Anne Bonnie's friend. The two shared an interesting history. When I was planning out this story, I had meant for Bonnie to be Ruka's close friend/adoptive sister. But after some thought I decided to give Bonnie and Ruka the same surname for important, classified reasons and the best way for them to have the same surname is if they shared some blood.**

 **See you next chapter.**


	16. Chapter 15: Sleeping, Waking

**The chapters keep getting longer and longer! I hope they're worth it. I try to keep them well-paced.**

 **Enjoy! I know it's been too long.**

 **00000**

A World of Difference

Chapter 15: Sleeping, Waking

 _A stranger's eyes that somehow look familiar_

 _I know that when it's you I'll **remember…**_

 _—Lady Antebellum_

 **00000**

 _Where am I?_

She sat in a high doorway, her knees tucked under her as she leaned slightly forward on her hands, staring out into the void of vicious winds and torrent of rain. She could see nothing beyond the harsh tempest, even with lightning crackling touching down some meters away from her.

Her head was occupied by a one-sided, silent interview: _Where was she? What was she doing here?_ This wasn't her ship, but an island, she could tell from the absence of lapping waves and the steady ground— _what was she doing on an island?_ The room behind her felt sickeningly plush with its fruity aroma and plush carpet fibers— _What was this place? Where was Bonnie and Flint and the rest of her crew? What had happened to the red throne? What was this vagueness to her memory and why was it there?_

Rain beat against her face as wind blew her hair back. She closed her eyes, feeling emotionally exhausted and leaned her heavy head against the door frame. Soaked by rain and at a loss, she withdrew herself from her thoughts. She felt the ache of stress bruising underneath the skin of her back, neck, and legs. Pain burned in her joints and there was a warm moistness in her palms.

Her weighted eyelids opened as if cranked open against a ten-ton weight and she peered down at hands that practically raised themselves. The heels of her palms were bleeding from small slits lined up superficially. She flexed her fingers, and saw that her long nails (they looked as if she hadn't clipped them in weeks?) fit perfectly into the bleeding slits.

She retracted her nails and glared at the bright red swelling decorating the pad of her thumb, the base of her fingers and over the veins of her wrists. As though she had beat them into the floor repeatedly.

She knit her brow and frowned at the self-damage. A gale wind interrupted her pondering, rushing up at her so forcefully her arms and hair were yanked back. She gasped as the wind threw her into the room. Wind just like a tidal wave came and left just as forcefully, yanking the door shut on its way out.

She sat up in a trembling, jittery mess. Her teeth chattered, her arms were pricked by goose bumps from shoulder to wrist, and her clothes and hair were dripping wet, with frizzy hair and loose threads poking out at every inch.

Wait, _her_ _clothes_ …

She felt her head drop, feeling like someone had pinched her chin and yanked her head down. What she saw made her heart stop, her head spin, and stopped her breath.

She was wearing women's clothes.

 _What_ [MH1] _…?_

With shaking eyes, she brushed numb fingertips over the fur-trimmed vest, long blue skirt, and boots. Where and why did she get these clothes? They weren't Bonnie's, she would have recognized them. The fabric was rough and worn, as if she'd had them for ages. _How_?

She felt a soft lump in the skirt pocket at her hip. She reached in and pulled out a small cap of cheap cloth. It was wet and spongy. She weighed it in her hands then glared at the too-nice carpet. It was probably the room of some snobby rich people.

Smirking, she held the hat at arm's length and wrung the water out into the plush fibers.

Grinning, she hopped to her feet, swaying and stumbling into the spotless wall. She peeled her numb, aching, soaked skin free and saw her dirt and rain silhouette printed there.

"Pfft!" She laughed into her hand, then rushed into the kitchen, following a fruity smell. She careened into the kitchen, boots skimming glistening tiles and bouncing to the fridge. She found juice and tea in pitchers and took one in each hand, quickly returning to the bedroom.

With glee and old sense of childish mischief, she emptied the drinks into the lavish carpet.

She dropped the empty pitchers into the mess and stretched her arms out overhead one at a time, grinning with triumph. Mid-stretch, she turned and trumped over to the bed. She ripped the silk blanket off and dragged it behind her into the bathroom. Striding proudly up to the bathtub, she stuffed the blanket into the tub, and pressed a button in the wall so that steaming hot water gushed from the faucet.

She whirled on her heel and strode promptly from the bathroom, pleased by the sound of running water.

Shutting the bathroom door behind her she put one knee on the bed and flung herself onto the noiseless mattress. She stretched out, smiling peacefully as she felt the cool sheets

Wherever she was, Flint would find her. Or she'd find him. As soon as the rain stopped she would leave this place and go off in search of them. They had to be around somewhere. She didn't get to this island on her own. Whichever island this was.

She rolled onto her back and stretched her arms out to the ceiling. Though she was smiling, she felt this coiling spring of panic in her stomach. It compelled her to run out in search of her crew as if her life depended on it.

All she knew was the very last thing she remembered: A bright moon, an eerie wind, and a nighttime stillness that told her something was coming. Beginning. A storm of another sort.

She felt tired. As if she'd slept for weeks and had only just woken up.

She traced circles in the sheets and nuzzled her cheeks into the cool fabric. Whatever was up, she'd figure it out when the rain stopped. As soon as she could, she'd leave this room and return to her crew. She'd have to change first. If they saw her looking like this, they might think she was some sort of tranny. Not that there was anything wrong with tranny's…

She breathed easily, curling up into a tight little ball. She combed her slick, frizzy hair back and inhaled softly[MH2] . Wait until the rain lets up, wait until the rain lets up.

 _But by then it'll be too late!_

She knit her brow, hearing an echo of a voice in head. So faint it was that she scarcely heard it all, and waved her hand in front of her cheek as if to dismiss a probing fly. She frowned at the crackling of lightning, barely noticing when all the lights shut off, and slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep…

 **00000**

Wind bombarded the gargantuan red and white striped circus tent, fluttering the cloth wherever it wasn't secure. Thunder boomed, shaking the foundation and making all objects within rattle. Lightning split the sky, touching the tops of mangroves high above and igniting them. Wind and rain teased the fires, eventually snuffing them out. Ashes and water fell through the fresh tears of the tent, falling down into the circus audience. All the seats were empty, save for the one occupied by Saint Julian. He watched the dancing acrobatic girls leap through rings of fire and over obstacle courses, their fair hair flying as their hips shook. He stared with little interest, jumping when rain drops of soaked ashes landed directly on his helmet. He hissed at the spot of filth with disgust and recoiled in his seat.

"There's dirt on my helmet!" He griped, fussing in his V.I.P. sofa chair. "Wipe it clean, slaves!"

He leaned back, watching the performers out in the arena dance in a circle around the stage, unperturbed by his fuss. One girl cartwheeled out of line, coming into the center of the ring as she twirled a baton lit at both ends in her hand.

Julian's slaves included an aging former princess and a young light-haired child, who stood on either side of him in raggedy beige dresses, as well as a yellow fishman who was currently serving him as a footstool.

The former princess stumbled forward on shaking legs, ripping a piece of her dress away and reaching out with shaking hands. She tripped, losing her balance and fell into Saint Julian's lap.

Possessed by a demonic rage, Julian looked at her with sickening disgust and shoved her off. She tumbled over the fishman and hit the ground with a boom, her head smacking against the next row of audience chairs.

"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME YOU FILTHY HUMAN!" He bellowed, spraying a storm of saliva at the inside of his helmet. He reached into his pocket and took out a small remote detonating device. It was tuned to the collar around the former princesses' neck.

She shrieked through gritted teeth and raised her arms in front of her face, cringing away from Saint Julian as he raised the detonating remote. He paused, glaring, enraged at the lowly slave girl. Slowly, a blank but deeply pleased grin spread from ear to ear.

"No, I changed my mind." He said conversationally as he let the hand holding the remote drop to his side. "Blowing you up would be boring."

The former princess shuddered against the arena seat, a sigh of relief escaping through chattering teeth.

Saint Julian looked at his fishman footstool with glee[MH3] .

"You!" He pointed one fat, gloved finger at the fish. "Take her into the aisle and beat her to death!"

All three slaves turned deathly pale, even the yellow fishman. They looked at him with wide "This can't be happening" eyes that made him so sick he took his gun out and flung his arm up, pointing it at the child slave, who shrieked and cowered into a pathetic little whimpering ball.

"I SAID BEAT HER TO DEATH!" He shouted at the piece fish trash. "Do it now! Or maybe you'd like me to shoot this one instead, HUH?!"

Both the fishman and the former princess shot the child a look of panic and desperation, their arms shifting to brace uselessly against the ground, frustration infecting their features where only obedience and despair belonged.

Saint Julian moved his arm and fired the gun. The child screamed and fell back, gripping the side of her head. Blood seeped through her fingers and turned her blonde hair bright red. In a small puddle at her feet was her own severed ear.

The fishman and former princess both jerked wildly away, teeth gnashing at the sight of the bleeding girl three feet away from them.

"Do you want me to finish her off? Fools!" Saint Julian snapped impatiently, waving the gun. "Do as I say! You are my slaves! You're only purposes are to live and die for my entertainment. Now move!"

The fishman moved, flinching up from the ground as if to strike at Julian. No, he wouldn't strike his master. Slaves knew better.

The former princess's hand shot out, grabbing the fishman's shoulder. His head turned, so that Julian couldn't see the expression there, and met the overshadowed gaze of the former princess. She squeezed his shoulder urgently and they both got up from the ground and walked out into the aisle as if going to their own execution.

The child slave's eyes shot open and she twisted in her pathetic fetal position to watch, wide-eyed and breathless, as the former princess stepped out into the aisle.

The fishman struck so quickly that even Julian jumped. The former Princess' side cracked and caved in, leaving a deep depression there. Blood bruised her clothes and she fell as if hit by a bomb. The fishman hit her twice more, both times knocking her closer to the floors. Bones cracked so distinctly the noise drowned out the boom of thunder in the sky outside. Julian watched with blank interest as the fishman beat the princess heart with his fist until she went still, resembling a shattered porcelain doll.

The child slave sobbed, and Julian shot her a threatening look which made her flinch and hide her face behind her arms. The fishman rose, keeping his back to Julian.

"That's more like it!" He cheered, clapping. He, a celestial dragon, was applauding a fishman. This had to be a real treat for the fish. "But take your time next time! It was over before I could even enjoy it!"

The fishman started shaking, first in his shoulders then down his arms, then the rest of his body. Julian cocked his head at the fish, upper limp compressing in questioning displeasure. Was the fish… Angry…?

"Show me your face, fish!" He barked, turning the gun on him[MH4] .

The fishman whirled, his fist dripping with blood and his face twitching wildly with fury.

Julian looked, his expression turning livid behind his helmet.

"Who do you think you're looking at, you damn fish?" He questioned, gripping the hilt of the gun. "Now you die!"

He fired the gun, and the slave child wrenched herself off the floor with a cry of "No!" leading Julian to turn on her. He fired the gun again, but shuddered away.

Standing there, directly in front of the little slave girl, was Shiroryuu. He had his hood up, so only his too bright, too narrow, ire-flooded eyes were visible beneath his billowing black cloak.

Shiroryuu had his arm up in front of the slave girl, his fist clenched directly over her heart. He shifted, eyes flashing, with one arm bent over his shoulder. Julian scaled that arm and could see Shiroryuu's fingers were tangled in something threadbare and weighty; Shiroryuu had it hefted behind his shoulder, out of sight, but Julian's eyes seemed pulled, as if by gravity, to the hidden object.

"Why torment a single trio of slaves?" Shiroryuu asked, clenching his raised fist tightly, grinding the bullets he'd caught into dust. "Why not torch the world and get it over with?"

He opened his hand, and silvery dust fell like glittering glass powder to the floor, landing in a miniscule sand dune. Julian peered at the mess, gaping at the atrocity.

"SHIRORYUU!" He screeched. " _How dare you!_ How dare you stop those bullets! These are slaves that disrespected their master! They need discipline! THEY NEED TO DIE!"

Shiroryuu's arm fell to his side. He moved his still, uninterested gaze to the performers in the arena. The acrobats had ceased dancing and were now gawking in astonishment.

Julian saw a blue tint burst from the Shiroryuu, moving out in a cold wave through everything and everyone. It hit Julian and brought him to his knees, passed harmlessly through his two slaves, and collided with the dancers. Their eyes rolled back in their heads and they dropping, falling into the dirt packed floor in sleep.

Julian stared, bug eyed and trembling. He looked around in disbelief, frightened at the sight.

"S-Shiroryuu!" He exclaimed, feeling the cold gaze of death itself land on him. "You… Dare to use your conqueror's haki on me? ME?! A DESCENDENT OF THE WORLD'S CREATORS?!"

Too fast, Julian heard a rush of wind and looked to see the bottom of a large boot rush up at him. It broke through his helmet, smashing it like an egg, and came crashing down on his face. Julian heard the ripping of his own flesh by glass shards trapped between his face and the boot. His bones cracked, dislocating and breaking.

Julian screamed mutely in horror. _Impossible, this is impossible!_ He felt his feet fly out from under him and the back of his skull slam into the back of his helmet, cracking the glass. His divine blood spilled everywhere and his wide, bloodshot eyes stared up and up, at the eyes of an executioner. Monstrous, hateful eyes that cursed him to Hell.

How could this be happening? He'd done nothing to deserve this!

"Your ancestors didn't create this world." Shiroryuu stated in blunt, harsh directness. "They morphed it. Don't confuse yourself with gods, worthless—inhuman—trash."

With each final word Shiroryuu grinded his blood-soaked boot deeper into Julian's shattered face. Blood gurgled in Julian's mouth, and he tensed as Shiroryuu reached into his cloak and pulled out a long, thin blade. It resembled a three-foot-long needle. It glinted in the colored lights, looking almost harmless. But Julian knew better. Shiroryuu was the grim reaper who could turn anything he liked into a weapon. Once, when Julian was a child, he'd seen a sixteen-year-old Shiroryuu gouge the eyes out of a defective slave with a butter knife on the orders of Julian's father.

His body rattled liked old bones strung up in the wind.

"You're the one called Saint Julian, aren't you?" Shiroryuu asked, keeping his gaze hidden as he tilted his head back. "Aren't you…?"

Julian grit his teeth, his muted scream of terror echoing in his ears.

"I remember you." Shiroryuu stated casually, shrugging the one shoulder strained by the unknown weight he was carrying. "You're the petty, fat little fool who likes to punish any woman who dares refuse you. You've taken more wives than any of the other World Nobles. Each and every one of them has committed suicide as soon as your back was turned. You dislike that very much, don't you? You won't allow them to die peacefully. So you sent me after their families. Their brothers, sisters, children, and parents."

Julian shuddered beneath the boot, his arms and legs shaking with such intensity the ground shuddered.

"Your mouth is overflowing with blood." Shiroryuu informed, twirling the long needle in his fingers. "And your shaking. You look like a fish flopping on the ground. Did you know that?"

Julian's scream was muffled behind Shiroryuu's boot, which pressed and pressed, breaking his noble face further.

"You're an idiot." Shiroryuu accused, flashing his murderous gaze at Julian as he towered over him.

Julian jerked wildly, shaking as he tried to get free. This was impossible. A member of CP0 couldn't do this to him. No one could!

"No, 'idiot' isn't strong enough of a word." Dragon straightened up, considering his words. "You're despicable. The whole rotten lot of you are despicable. Hopeless, ludicrous wastes of matter and _energy_. But not for long…"

Julian laughed nervously. Wait, was he nervous? No he shouldn't be. This was obviously some sort of dream—

 _CRUNCH_.

Julian's ears rang with a horribly loud, unbearable crying. Red flooded his vision as blood pooled in his eyes. It stung. He blinked profusely, helplessly, and tried to shut the alarm off only to realize it was his own agonized screaming[MH5] .

He directed a cursing, indignant gaze at the fishman, now standing on him as well. His hideously repugnant fish foot had stomped down on Julian's collar bone, shattering it. And his ugly, flat, fish eyes glared down at him with fierceness that swore vengeance.

"Didn't you think it was strange that your escort disappeared like he did?" Shiroryuu asked, not sounding even remotely bothered by the presence of the fishman. "Didn't you think it might be best to alert the other guards in the nearest building protecting your father and sister?"

Julian stared, realization which felt more like horror dawning over his twitching, pale features.

"No of course you didn't." Dragon spat, eyes flashing in the circus lights. "After all, who would dare attack _you_?"

Julian stared in mute horror as Dragon continued: "It's funny that you chose to come here, though. A _circus_. A fitting final resting place for a clown who played God."

At last Dragon removed his boot, planting it on the other side of Julian as he leaned back, hefting the object on his shoulder. Shiroryuu swung his arm around, holding the previously hidden object over Julian.

Dark brown hair. The same brown hair as his escort. Julian looked and looked at the face a hair's breadth as if he were trying to focus on someone standing at the end of a long tunnel. But this person couldn't stand. He had no legs, no hips, no torso or arms or neck. Just a head with bulging eyes, half rolled back in his head. Blood dripped from the stump of neck, and Julian threw up in his mouth as the slave girl behind Dragon shrieked.

Julian laughed nervously, finding that the shattered remnants of his jaw were still somewhat functioning. "W-Where'd the rest of him go? H-Hahaha!"

"I didn't expect you to be particularly upset by this, given the _entertainment_ you creatures enjoy," Dragon spoke with acrimony, "However you _do_ understand why I'm here? What I want from you?"

Julian chuckled nervously, wide-eyed and tearful at the thought of death. Death that couldn't possibly be real, not for him. He was a World Noble of Mariejois!

"W-Wait!" He stuttered cautiously through broke, chipped, and blood-soaked teeth. "You… You don't want to kill _me_! I'm not your _real_ enemy! I-I-I can tell you things about yourself! The Gorosei, t-they lied to you! You're no orphan. Y-y-you never were! Your real name is—!"

"I know." Dragon interrupted, sending Julian's eyebrows up beyond his curly chestnut fringe. "I already know everything."

"Someone told y-you…" Julian began, shuddering. "… About your origins…?"

"More or less." Dragon spat, spreading his fingers to drop the head. It hit the ground and bobbed down the steps, rolling into an empty aisle behind Julian's head. Julian watched it, chuckling nervously while chewing on his fingers with hot tears streaming down his face.

Dragon flexed his arm, holding the long needle blade at his side. Julian gaped at it, shaking with the intensity of an earthquake[MH6] .

"Not that I'm complaining, but why aren't you screaming?" Dragon asked, raising his head indignantly.

"Haha…" Julian laughed, fingers clawing the carpet of the audience floor. "You… Won't kill me! It's impossible! I have… The blood of the creators in me! You… You are Shiroryuu! Our… Grim Reaper! We _own_ you! Everything you've ever received… Has come from us! Same as everyone else! You… YOU CAN'T KILL ME! I ORDER YOU NOT TO KILL ME!"

Julian panted, his chest heaving. He choked on his own blood, hacked up more fluids, and felt the paralysis sink deeper into his joints and limbs.

Dragon flipped the long needle in his palm around, pinching the end between his thumb and forefinger and twisting his wrist, allowing the sleek and fatal instrument to slide through his hand. He caught the midsection, gripping it.

He popped his treasonous eyes at Julian, who shrieked in response.

"What you have given and what I have received," He spoke slowly and clearly, "Is all the same. And it was all leading to this point. Compared to the absolute justice of the Marines and the blessings of you false gods, the crimes committed by Roger and others like him are deeds. Soon the world will be acutely aware of what _exactly_ they've received from you. And everything you've given will be repaid in full."

Julian let out a silent scream as Shiroryuu raised the long needle blade, pinching it by his ear and turning, his eyes flashing with what resembled sparks of lightning.

"Tell that to your precious creators." Shiroryuu ordered.

Julian gulped, then released a bloodcurdling scream. The needle drew closer, then came to a stop mere centimeters away from his exposed face.

His eyes scaled the needle, and found the hand that gripped it was being held at bay by a larger, yellowish hand. Julian wheezed great gasping breaths through chattering teeth and looked up at his fishman slave, his eyes locked with Shiroryuu's.

Razor shape gaze clashed with alien, flat fish eyes. Hope swelled in Julian's chest. Of course he'd be saved. Of course his slaves were loyal to their master. He opened his mouth to laugh with joy…

… Only to see Shiroryuu gently place the long needle blade in the open, waiting palm of the fishman slave.

Julian inhaled sharply, squealing. Shiroryuu gave him a last look, regarding him with disgust before looking up and walking out of sight.

"Don't damage his face any further." Shiroryuu ordered, and Julian craned his neck to see the man standing with his back to them, his arms crossed over his chest. "I need it."

The fishman made a face at the man before directing the full force of his rage and grief at Julian. He raised the needle high, bringing it down.

He screamed so loud it echoed through the island.

And then there was nothing…

 **00000**

Dragon carefully finished off the slave girl's bandaging, neatly tucking the end of the head wrappings over[MH7] the bleeding stump of severed ear. He cautiously felt for the cotton and gauze padding trapped beneath the wrappings and frowned when he saw the spot of blood that had seeped through.

Still, there was enough pressure to quell the bleeding.

"Thank you." The fishman slave whispered so low it was nearly inaudible, even to Dragon who'd been trained in such a way that his hearing was slightly advanced. Dragon passed the fishman a grave look, seeing him slumped over his knees in a way that spoke volumes of self-loathing.

Dragon nodded, silently acknowledging the word of thanks. The two corpses resting on the stairs outside the rows of seats were a heavy weight on his mind. One look at the slave woman's injuries, the way in which she was so crumpled and broken, and he could easily guess her fate.

If only he'd arrived a little sooner.

At least Saint Julian had been stupid enough to have the keys for the remaining slaves' collars. They're chains and collars gone, both the young girl and the fishman were essentially free. But they sat around like they were still bound.

Dragon's jaw clenched. That was no good.

He put a hand under the little girl's upper arm, gently bringing her to her feet. The fishman raised his head in question.

Dragon looked at him. "Run. He screamed loud enough that someone may come to check on him. It's only been a few minutes, so run now."

"Where are we supposed to go?" The fishman asked lifelessly.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Dragon ordered, reaching down to grab his wrist and pulled him to his feet. "You're wasting time. Run now before you lose your chance."

The fishman kept his head bowed. Dragon sighed, passing a glance over his shoulder at the sobbing slave girl. They're eyes were empty. As if they were considering following the dead slave woman in death.

Dragon looked at the slave woman's corpse lying outside the aisle. Her eyes were still open, still moist from tears.

"Who was she?" Dragon asked the fishman, sincerely curious.

"… She was the princess of a kingdom which refused to join the World Government." He replied, dead-voiced and broken. "Her people, family, and friends were all murdered a long time ago. The scum dead on the floor over there took her for her looks."

"I asked who she was, not what." Dragon clarified impatiently, blinking his gaze back to the Fishman.

The Fishman looked at her, ashamed. "She was a human woman who was very kind to us. She didn't care that we were different species… She treated us as equals, in worth and in life[MH8] ."

"Different species…?" Dragon asked, looking at the slave girl questionably. She was already pulling her long raggedy dress up, revealing her ankles. Her feet and legs were covered in glimmering green scales, with sharp black toe nails. Lizard feet.

His expression flickered into one of wonder. "You're a mink…"

She let her dress drop and her head fall, shaking it audibly.

"She's half…" the Fishman informed.

Dragon nodded in acknowledgement.

"She was very kind to me, in spite of what she'd suffered." The Fishman continued, empty and ashamed. "I… I had wanted to kill Julian, but she knew what would've happened. He would've killed us all. I… Can't believe this. I… I should've let him shoot me…!"

"Enough of this." Dragon ordered, dismissing the weeping. "If you want to die so bad, wait here. The marines will shoot you dead as soon as they get here. But if you do that, then she'll have died for nothing."

"…Who are you?" the Fishman asked, sounding overwhelmed by curiosity. "He trusted you. You moved so fast you were able to catch both bullets. You murdered him… Don't you know what will happen?"

"That's my business." Dragon replied curtly, pulling Julian's gun out from inside his cloak and turning to shove it into the girl's hands. "If you want to die for nothing, wait here. But if you want her death to mean something, run. Run as far and as fast as you can. Hide your backs and disappear. I don't have time to babysit you. My final hour began as soon as I made my decision. Now make yours."

He strode past them, stalking briskly outside the aisle to stand over Julian. He drop-knelt and looked into the World Noble's dead eyes. He'd done a lot of damage on the spur of the moment. He'd also allowed that fishman to poke a few too many holes. This was going to be three times as hard as he would've liked.

He slipped a hand into his cloak and pulled out a roll of leather cloth, laying it on the ground and rolling it open. He saw a large cleaving knife, scalpels, needles, coloring. Everything he needed. He would have to be fast, but efficient, with scrutinous attention to detail.

"My name is Tak." The fishman announced, stopping Dragon in his tracks. He turned to see him standing together with the Mink girl, fire blazing in his eyes. "What is yours?"

Dragon hesitated. What name, he wondered, should he use anymore? He was no longer Shiroryuu, CP0's elite assassin. Yet he couldn't take his father's name either without endangering the man. He thought of Ruka, her struggle to define herself as anything but weak and came to a conclusion.

"My name is Dragon." He answered. Not Shiro, or Monkey D. anything. Just Dragon. He belonged to no one and had nothing to lose. Now he would shake the world.

"If we ever meet again, I promise to help you." Tak swore.

Dragon knit his brow. "We won't meet again. In case you haven't noticed, I just signed my own death warrant."

Tak and the Mink girl hesitated before carefully and quietly trudging out of the room, taking the back entrance out into the storm.

He closed his eyes, recalling a long ago memory of lukewarm light.

 _Here_. Sazu said as he handed him a rolled up pouch tied with leather strings. _Happy birthday, Shiro! I heard about your sloppy tenth kill! Use this next time to repair the damage. Then your bosses won't have anything to complain about!_

"Thank you, Sazu." He said, deeply grateful even if Sazu would murder him over this fool hardy plan of his.

Fool hardy or not he would give it a go. Flint would keep his side of the deal and take Ruka into hiding. She would emerge again under a newer, better falsified identity at a much later date. With no memory of him she would have no reason to attempt any suicide missions to avenge him should he end up dead. Flint certainly wouldn't avenge him, since he still mostly believed he was a cold blooded psychopath. Then again, perhaps Dragon was…

He unscrewed the shattered helmet and pulled it off, ripping it through the snags of hair.

He took a deep breath, glared at the messy face, and pulled out the butcher's cleaver. First things first:

 _Trim the fat._

 **00000**

She shuddered, jerking tightly in on herself. Her teeth gnashed as her fingers quivered in bone-white fists. Her[MH9] blood ran cold, rushing through her like a sea serpent. Her bare toes fisted and stretched, pale against the freezing air. The inky blackness pressed against her eye lids, keeping her caught in the odd limbo between sleeping and waking.

She was having trouble remembering where she was. Her first conclusion was that she was camping near some sort of waterfall—the sound of gushing liquid was everywhere, echoing through the room, lapping the edges of its confined space.

She saw after-images of dreams where dragons were summoned by wicked, false gods and slaughtered. Dragon horns were ripped free, the scales plucked one by one, their bellies slit and bleeding out as their insides were torched. Wicked smiles accompanied fat, wicked men with hair pulled high into a single curl. Ruka watched from afar, lying paralyzed in sand, her body shivering as she tried again and again to call out to the tortured, dying creature with her voice that abandoned her. She cried helplessly and saw deep, wondering, content dark eyes in scaly sockets meet hers. He spoke into her mind a quiet _Goodbye_ which woke her with jolt, screaming.

She vaguely noticed the flooded room, the silk blanket floating about like shipwreck flotsam. Her eyes were focused far away, crossing and uncrossing, going from cloudy blur to dank clearness. Her chest heaved, heart hammering and twinging. Her sweaty, jittering fingers pressed against her chest, spread, dug deep into her skin through her clothes. Confusion like she'd never known before shot through her bones like senbon. Ire and shame burned in her bones at temperatures that should've evaporated her marrow. Thoughts beat in her head like the wings of cavernous ravens picking apart roadkill.

A gnawing, echoed sensation which felt a lot like hunger occupied her stomach, but she knew that if she ate now she'd just hurl it back up. In the cavern of her belly, butterflies of anxiety were caught, their wings ripped off, plucked apart piece by piece or flicked into oblivion.

Her heart was bathed in lava, yet it spasmed and lurched instead of melting away. Her raven thoughts tormented her until her world turned monochrome. She no longer cared where she was or what she was doing here or how she'd gotten here. She didn't care where Bonnie was, or Flint, or her crew. Sparks flew in her mind, kindling survival instincts which fit a starving lion better than a human. She leapt off the bed, splashed barefoot through the water, kneeling to pluck her boots from the waves and was out the door in no time.

Mid-dawn, after the storm. Sunrise was peachy and filled with pretty, abnormally large soap bubbles. She was caught by falling water and almost washed over the balcony. She managed to catch the railing last second, lurching forward, grunting in pain when her waistline hit the metal with bruising force. Her wet hands almost lost their grip on her shoes, but she pinched them together and carefully made her way down the stairs, moving hand over hand and keeping her eyes on her wet feet.

Time ran excruciatingly slow for her. So desperate she was to get away that when she reached a point when she was a safe distance from the ground, she let go of the railing and let herself slip off. She fell down into an oversized recycling bin which very much resembled an oversized gumball machine.

She slid down the bags of garbage, wincing as something hidden in the bags raked across the skin of her ankle. Her feet hit grass so soft it could've been moss and she took off in a run, pulling on her shoes as she went. Monochrome bleakness bled into the scenery, creeping around her. She saw people. Construction crews using large pulleys to lift fallen tree limbs out of homes and buildings, raising large tarps to keep the rain dripping from the tops of the gargantuan mangroves out. There were sounds of nails being hammered into place, drills and saws. Seagulls called, diving low and brushing the hairs of passerby's: early birds and shop openers and tourists discussing their boat rides. The rich were carried in rolling ferry domes, the middle class walked about, doing their business, the poor sat in the shade and shadows as they starved to death.

She ignored them, letting them fade to gray blurs in the corner of her eyes. She felt the spongy, soft grass beneath her shoes and the cool, post-storm morning wind blow her hair back. She raced away from civilization, running until her lungs shriveled up like raisins and her heart almost burst.

When at last she made it out of town into some shady, old slums she fell to her hands and knees and panted. Her arms curled around her heaving chest, feeling the blood burn in her cheeks and sweat trail down her neck. Her toes dug into the wet grass as she gasped for breath, her eyes squeezed shut, struggling to get everything she'd seen out of her mind. In the midst of her instinctual, traumatic flight and recurring nightmare after-images, the part of her brain which was hard-wired to self-protection kicked to life and put all the funny architecture together with all the old stories she'd heard from her mother's marine clients back home.

She was in the Sabaody Archipelago.

 _How_ [MH10] _?!_

She grit her teeth and gasped so intensely it felt and sounded like sobbing. Perhaps it was, because tears were welling in her eyes just like the blood was welling from the open gash on her ankle. One hand clawed the ground while the other combed fingers through her hair, tearing out clumps of grass and strands of hair repeatedly.

She hugged herself, pressed her cheek into ground, and forced herself to take deep breaths. Slowly but surely, her heart calmed, her lungs flattened out and filled with air, the tears in her eyes dried.

Peeling her eyes open, she unfolded her arms and pressed sweaty palms against too-green grass. She pushed herself up, sitting back on her knees, and falling back again to free her knees and lean back on her hands.

Hot breath escaped her in tiny clouds. She took one long, deep breath and fell completely back into the grass. Staring up at the sky, she searched inwardly for any trace of her waking terror and found faint echoes of what had sent her racing off in flight mode.

"What the hell?" She asked, draping a forearm across her eyes.

What was all that about? She felt it even now. The deep urge to run and keep on running. The desperation and panic which drove her out the door and to the hills. She had never before experienced anything so compelling. There was something that came close. That time before Flint, before pirating, when she'd gotten the news her close friend was stolen by slave snatchers. She'd known then that she would never find her, never save her in time. She ran all day and night, trying to beat the pain back. Then, when her mind was swept clean by exhaustion, she went on a rampage. A vengeful, hateful rampage.

But even that didn't compare. Her feet twitched, urging her to move. Her heart ached as if it would implode. Her eyes stared numbly off into space, seeing nothing.

It felt instinctual. Physical. Her mind itself was mostly calm, save for the questions pondering her current state. Everything else from her pale skin to being sick at heart was all physical. It felt exactly as if she had suffered a great and tremendous loss. Like when her mother died. Her stupid, weak, useless mother who did nothing and allowed all levels of insolence and then just up and died. Useless.

And yet that was her mother. So she'd grieved and cried and held a crying, baby Bonnie until they both ran out of strength. They'd cried all night and all day for almost a week and when they were done they were so emotionally distraught and worn down that they felt just like this. It hadn't just been heartbreak. That term was too vague. Everything was broken. Everything hurt. Their hearts had sat in their chests like ten ton weights and pulled them down just as hers did now but that didn't take their attention off everything else, which pulled and ached and tensed and bled all at once.

Heartbreak. That was what was wrong with her. Though her calm mind argued otherwise, she knew. She was sick at heart.

Was Bonnie dead? And Flint and all the rest? Had she seen it and gone made with grief, her mind erasing itself to protect her? She'd seen that happen to others quite a few times back home.

The thought sank through her mind like an anchor. _Was Bonnie dead?_ If her sister was truly dead, then she wanted to die here too. Bonnie had been her sole reason for surviving so much Hell on earth for too long for her to survive any other way. There was no point being physically alive when the death of everything you loved left you dead inside.

Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie. She wanted to see her. Her baby sister, all smart aleck remarks and flying pink hair and fighting spirit that put men twice her size on their knees.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" A voice called from directly above her. "Who's this?"

She slid her forearm out of the way, peering up into the gritty, scarred and ugly face of a broad shouldered, greedy man twice her age. He had two friends with him, both looking equally greedy and wriggling their fingers in perverse interest.

She glowered at them, in spite of her lack of energy. She knew those looks. Knew them well.

 **00000**

Looking back at Saboady, Dragon saw that the storm had only just moved out of the archipelago's atmosphere[MH11] . He smiled a little at that, realizing that Ruka was in sunshine. Lost, confused, and without help. But she was standing in the sun again, where she belonged.

He, of course, was trapped in the storm.

As he'd expected, it followed him. He was at the epicenter, where the rain was less heavy and the winds were still harsh, where onyx rain clouds crackling with lighting and booming with echoing thunder surrounded him on all sides. He stood on the deck of a black ship, controlled by the five-man crew of Transporters.

As their name suggested, they were the ones in charge of carrying CP0 and other factions of cipher pol up and down the Grand Line. Their ships were jet black and wicked fast, with or without the E.A.C. The current five were a new crew, replacements for their fathers who'd passed away about three missions ago.

Dragon's face, concealed by hood and rain and so much darkness, fell. The previous five transporters had been kind to him. Kinder than Sazu, kinder than anyone. He clearly remembered their expressions of outright shock when a twelve-year-old stepped onto their ship. He was sure he must have looked utterly pathetic with his wide eyes, crying silently so tears trailed down an expressionless face. He'd been short at the time, not yet having reached maturity. His back had hurt from carrying a messenger bag full of weapons, and from the string of dark bruises marring his back muscles and spine. As pathetic as he was, the five old men had looked him as if seeing an ordinary child.

When aboard their ship, he was welcomed at the table to hot meals. He was given overly affectionate noogies, his wounds treated with tender care, and privacy in sleep. In Mariejois, the elder trainees often broke his bedroom door in to deliver moldy bread and heavily polluted water. They would gang up on him, pin him down, and punch his freshly stitched wounds until they ripped open. They would hide venomous, starving snakes in his bed.

With the torment of his fellow trainees, the training of his mentors, the mental torture delivered by all who lived in Mariejois, and the horrifying acts of the World Noble's it really was no surprise Dragon tried to run. But just as he'd told Ruka, that was pointless. Not only had they'd known, they had been prepared for it.

The first time he ran, his mentors threw him to the other trainees. He'd passed out and woken up with an uncountable number of broken bones and a near-fatal concussion. Nearly every other escape attempt had ended him up in one of torture chambers.

He'd felt anguish of such crippling intensity that he had developed the habit of curling into a tight ball and hiding in some dark corner. Alone, aching and bleeding all over, he would press his hands over his ears and chant _It's just noise! It's just noise! It's just noise!_

That was the world. Noise. Even if the only sound you heard were your own pathetic sobs, muted from having your head tucked between your knees and echoed by the wide space encasing you.

But there was also the noise of silence. Dragon had heard its hum early on, like a disembodied breathing. Unlike the world's cold noise, silence was warm. When he could manage it, he would sit and let it fill him up.

Noise was cold; it tinted the world in monochrome. Noise for Dragon meant screaming. Or pleas with mercy coupled with tears. Or battle cries, bellowed out from behind weapons. The noise of the fallen.

Then there was his own noise. Blood scratching the inside of his throat like half-melted screws. Pulse drumming away in his ears as he received kicks in the ribs again and again, reducing the rows of hard bone into toothpicks. Pulse going quiet when black jackboots slammed down on his arm, breaking it in two. Like his bones were twigs. Blood curdled screaming when he felt the pain. Blood gurgling in his open mouth after they broke his jaw.

Silence meant he was alone. Away from his tormenters. Sometimes he used the silence to lay in a half-asleep state. But silence meant he was waiting. Waiting to run or hide or be in pain. Waiting for the Celestial Dragon's to "Torch the world for fun" as he'd taunted Julian.

He waited now. Sabaody was far away, and Ruka was safe. The Red Line and it's carefully concealed Heavenly Chariot built into the side were closer with every second.

The bloody sack he clutched in one hand contained the head he needed. He grasped the burlap cloth and gazed ahead with determined boldness. His resolve was iron tight.

 _Dragon?!_

 _Dragon, whatever you're thinking of doing—_ don't _._

 _DON'T DO THIS!_

He winced, free hand clapping over his twinging ear. Why? Why did he have to think about them now? Why did he think of them at all?

So clearly was his father's face in his mind that it was like he was back in front of his eyes. The way he had called out to him, as if he had wanted to say his name all his life, as if he were trying to pull a drowning man chained to weights out of the sea. A voice like that was not easily forgotten.

Dragon hated him. Stupid, weak, incompetent fool. How could a vice-admiral allow his family to be so thoroughly destroyed? How could he believe the World Government when his rank should've allowed him to witness their treatment of the world? Why hadn't he come to get him? Why hadn't he searched for him at all? If Dragon had had a child, he wouldn't have just let someone tell him he was dead. He wouldn't have accepted it without a body. He especially wouldn't have believed it if it were _them_ telling him so.

Sazu as well. What exactly had he overheard his father say to the Doflamingo family head all those years ago? Why hadn't Dragon asked when he had the chance? Maybe when they were boys, then he would've been able to get the information out of him. But not now. Especially not after today. Sazu had grown to be almost exactly as his father. Ruthless and unswervingly loyal to the World Government. There would be no getting anything out of him now.

Dragon needed to know. He had to know why they would do all this. Why torture his father, vice-admiral Garp, a man who was known as a pillar of morale to the entirety of the Navy, just so they could turn his son into an assassin and send him off at random to murder their enemies? Depending on when they took him, Dragon would've been well guarded. They would've had to have people memory wiped or murdered. Anyone in CP0 could do the former.

 _DON'T DO THIS!_

Dragon flinched and let his hand drop. Her voice was louder than all the rest. Maybe because he had erased it in reality. Here her voice would never call out to him again even if they were in the same room.

Remembering her made everything ache. It was a new kind of empty ache that swelled and spread. All the warm memories that had stitched him up bit by bit now ripped and shredded. Her confidence and determination, her heart that burned like fire, her eyes always directed at him no matter what he did. Her hope, her strength, her straightforward mind that saw everything he missed. Her quirky, animated expressions. Her movements and her fierceness. Her soul…

That was what had drawn him to her. Her heart and soul. She wasn't the prettiest, or the most talented, or even the most interesting. He didn't care much for those things anyway. He'd lived watching all these creatures without their souls walking around like nothing was wrong. His own soul was present, but stitched, dyed, and tainted. Ruka's were good and joyous. Yes, her heart and soul… That was what he loved about her.

He sighed in relief and smirked at the overbearing thunder clouds. She had forgotten him. But he would always remember her, always remind himself what he had done to her, and although he hated himself for it he was glad it was done. She was alive. Warm, wonderful, excitable Ruka with her beating heart and flaming soul was alive. She would remain that way. Flint would not fail her.

 _You ruined everything!_ She'd said before, when she'd taken the bait and grabbed his knife to slit his throat open. At that time, he'd been thinking about dying for weeks. But all previous attempts, be it open veins or drug overdoses or grenades to the face, someone had appeared and stopped him. The former transporters or his mentors or, just once, Sazu. So he had tried getting Ruka to do it, and her eyes had looked exactly like his. Full of loathing and sadness. Eyes that destroyed everything and left nothing.

 _A lifeless brat with a death wish and sick eyes that hate the world._ That was what Sazu had said to him when they parted ways. That day, he'd seen the truth behind the boy that he'd called friend for so long. He'd felt true despair and believed what CP0 had been attempting to drill into him for so long: that the people in the world were worthless. They easily turned to crime and mutiny when things didn't go their way and thus were worthless. He'd heard it but never believed it. Not until Sazu made that one unforgivable act, and everything turned white and black.

People were weak. They were powerless and stupid. They outnumbered their enemy a thousand to one, but they were so caught up in self-preservation that they wouldn't even consider rising up. So instead they let themselves be picked off one by one. They blew away, smoke in the wind. Ephemeral.

But he'd been doing the same. In his desperate desire to witness proof that the World Government was wrong he had sacrificed so many. He'd been waiting to meet Ruka forever. Then when he finally found her, this happened.

He was so happy. No matter how things went, he'd be free. He would never belong to them again. He would die first, and Ruka wouldn't be hurt.

She wouldn't remember him. Even if he died. And he could live with that.

He opened his eyes as the ship docked. Staring across the boardwalk, to the pitch black elevator that would carry him to the Hold Land, Dragon felt a sick sense of eagerness. Soon, he'd be free.

 **00000** [MH12]

"Hey, pretty little miss! Enough with the cold shoulder! Say something[MH13] !"

Gripping her shirt collar, the domineering brute shoved her up against the random chunk of crumbling brick wall. Ruka glowered up at them from behind frayed fringe. There were three of them, all twice her size and bearing four times as much muscle, with shaved heads and scarred faces. Stereotypical loser punks. They reeked of booze. She would've bet the crew's whole treasure fund that they ran with human traffickers.

The one holding her up against the wall leaned down to her eye level, leering at her. He had dark eyes in the sinister sense of the word and a smirk full of half-decayed teeth and black gums. She clenched her fists, imagining shattering them with a single punch. That was probably all it would take.

"Maybe we should just let her go." The Punk on the right, with greasy blond hair and a broken nose, teased with an air of sarcasm. "She's not much to look at anyway."

"Are you kidding?" The one holding her asked, twitching his eyebrows at her, antagonizing her. "When's the last time a woman just marched into our territory for no reason? She's got a lot of guts! She must be worth something to the slave traders."

 _Ah-ha_. She'd hit the nail on the head.

"Like you plan to sell her!" The punk on the left, thinning black hair with a line of stitches cutting over his collar bone, countered. "Whatever. Do what you like! But do it fast. I wanna grab some dinner."

Ruka threw herself forward, fighting against the strength of the hand holding her against the wall. She glared at the punks with the eyes of a starving, rabid beast. Weaponless, alone, and outnumbered. Just like old times.

"I'm not in the best mood." She warned, spitting through grinding teeth. "Keep on harassing me and I don't think I'll be able to keep from killing you."

 _After all, you're the type I hate the most._

The three punks made expressions of incredulity edging towards humor. They exchanged looks and burst out laughing.

The one holding her released his grip. She saw his hand pull back, clench into a fist, and bury itself in her cheek. She didn't feel like reacting beyond allowing herself to be thrown hard into the ground, the impact sending dust into the air. She tasted grass in her mouth, heard the heartless laughter of the trio of oversized half-wits, felt the metallic tang of blood seeping through the cracks in her teeth.

She peeled her eyes open inch by inch, greeted by a zoom-in view of the ground. There were trees and sunshine and the smell of clean air after rain. And yet, right at her feet were a bunch of losers laughing over a single punch and hardly an ounce of blood.

She blinked, uninterested, at the scenario. So familiar. Just like before.

She'd been in this position a thousand times before. Beaten and confused, lying in a messy heap, surrounded by the roaring laughter of cruel strangers. She would gaze at the ground and feel the seconds stretch out for an eternity, feel the numb aching in her fingers. She'd stay, never moving, as if she were waiting on something.

But no one was coming.

No one ever came.

And she figured out very quickly that the world wasn't beautiful. That life wasn't a privilege, but a challenge. And that in the end, you were alone. You could only save yourself.

The second rate who'd struck her was reaching down, preparing to take her arm. Maybe to yank her to feet, maybe to twist or break her limb. It didn't matter what, really. She didn't want him touching her.

And just like that she was moving, her legs flying up from the ground in one fluid, weightless movement. In a hand stand, she splayed her fingers over the grass and lifted her free arm up.

They stared in revolting incredulity. She grit her teeth and flipped back into a crouch. They backed away, now looking regretful, but she was in their shadows in the blink of an eye, each hand gripping a large chunk of brick that fell from the wall. She saw the defiance in the first one's eyes, and jumped like a rabbit before he threw his second punch. The force behind it was something; it made chunks of grass and mangrove root explode out from the ground. Clutching the two sharp brick chunks in her hands like knives, she bounced off the man's forearm to bury her heel deep into his neck. She felt the damp flesh, the pull of thin muscle, and the audible crack of bones.

His eyes went white, and he hit the ground, a limp mass. She fell to stand on his corpse, one foot on his head and the other on his spine, planning to break one if he did happen to move.

She stared at the two remaining punks with fuming, scorching eyes. They took one look at her, as if seeing a monster, and turned to run away. The one who'd suggested they let her go had a large stride and was luckier. But she hopped on the back of the second punk, kneeing him in the back with full force. He screamed and hit the ground, writhing like a worm in the dirt. She hopped to her feet, planting them on either side of him. She kicked him hard in the shoulder with her heel, and he rolled over with his mouth gaping open in a silent scream as his eyes rolled in his head.

She knelt, holding one rock's sharp edge against the man's jugular. Scum like him… Scum like him…!

 _Scum like him just ruined everything!_

He looked at her then, eyes wide and terrified, but accepting. As if he'd expected it to end this way one way or another. As if there'd been no avoiding it. Like people just ran around slicing each other's throats open…

She cringed, eyes popping. The rock fell from her loose grip to the soft ground as she gazed into the punks accepting eyes.

She'd… She'd been here before hadn't she…?

A crushing pain, like a bowling ball crashing down on her skull, hit her out of nowhere. Her hands flew up to grip the sides of her skull and she got to her feet with swaying difficulty, staggering back. Her eyes squeezed shut tight, she found herself seeing strange images fly through her mind's eye like broken video footage from a visual transponder snail.

The pictures were strained, cut through by static, monochrome and unclear. They flew in and out of sight, shrinking and swelling before her eyes. Voices came with the pictures, fitting them perfectly. Like a home movie starring herself and someone else. Someone tall, broad shouldered, and wrapped in darkness.

 _Thank you for coming up, Lucky Luke. I've come for your head._

 _My name is irrelevant._

 _You're a woman?!_

 _Why are you intent on being a thorn in my side until the bitter end?_

 _I don't have anything to protect. This is the only reality I've ever known._

 _Stay behind me. Don't move from that spot._

 _I thought I told you… To stay put._

 _It's all gotten very boring. Life. It's been nothing but the same old, depressing story for as long as I can remember._

 _You've impressed me._

 _I'm the enemy, yours to be precise._

 _You could run, you know? I'd turn a blind eye to it._

 _You're impossible._

 _If you fall in a crowd and you're too weak to get back up, getting trampled is almost guaranteed. But if you're cutting yourself you can always put down the knife._

 _What are you—_

Her knees hit the ground, and fell to sit on them. Her trembling, empty hands slipped from her tangled and dry hair, slipping into her lap. Her palms trembled and turned over, clawing and tearing out the grass.

Hot tears full of unprintable curses filled her head. She bit her lower lip and leaned her head back, eyes filling steadily with hot tears that burned her skin and retinas. She looked hopelessly up at the sunlit sky as her arms trembled.

What was this? These memories… Where had they come from? Where had they gone?

Someone she knew. Someone who had always, always been alone. Stolen, beaten and cheated. Damaged but whole. Wrapped in darkness, concealing memories that would've made her lose her ability to eat or worse, hiding scars from wounds that would've killed anyone else. A broken half smile and dark humor and a heart that had been bashed in more times than there were scars in the sky. Yet still it remained.

She clenched her fists and beat them against the side of her skull. What was this? What was this? How could this be? He was someone very important to her. That suicidal loner with a literal death wish who had nowhere to go, nowhere to return to, and no one who cared for him. He was afraid, so afraid that he'd… Done something. _Something unforgivable._ But she needed to help him…

They were similar. Not the same, but similar. Raised in darkness, they fought harder than anyone else. They made sacrifices they couldn't take back, did irreparable damage. But he was stronger than her, stronger than anyone she'd ever met.

He'd… He'd called her something. That special name especially made for him to use, because he wouldn't accept the false mask she'd created. So he called her something different, special. The name of the person who'd been willing to die, never seeing her family again, so long as it meant she could save him. The name she'd grown into only after meeting him. Who she really was.

"Ruka…" She sighed, recalling it like breath of fresh air as tears trailed silently down her cheeks. She blinked, looking to the left as a comforting warmth wrapped itself around her heart. "He calls me Ruka…"

Ruka smiled, a broken, trembling smile. It wavered and fell apart, replaced by an expression of deepest despair. She moved her hands over her eyes, pressing the heels of her palms into her sockets. She drew in a shaky breath, images of him flying past her minds eyes. _Dragon, Dragon, Dragon…!_

Shed forgotten him. Now the storm was gone, him with it. It was a new day. Too long! She'd taken too long! If nothing was done, then Dragon would…

…DIE!

She let out a blood-curdling, siren like scream. It ripped her throat raw and burst out of her like a wave of the coldest, most fatal wind. She felt it rush through the two half-dead men beside her, the birds in the air, the people on the island. Everything was caught in it. She screamed with all her strength and all her rage, plagued by images of a dead Dragon as she wept helplessly and leaned over to punch the stupid archipelago over and over again, hating it for all its beauty and all the evil it concealed and everything it had stolen from her. Stupid tourist spot! Stupid world government. STUPID DRAGON?

She leaned over on her hands, seething mouth hanging open in exhaustion as blood dripped from her bloody throat. She took her bruised hands and cracked fingers without caring and beat more injuries with punches that cracked her knuckles and wrists.

A final, helplessly broken sob ripped through her open mouth. She felt the crushing weight in her chest and folded her hands over it, pressing deeply until her skin ached. She'd knew there'd be bruises and she didn't care. She beat her bloody, half-broken hands there.

 _You… Won't be going to Mariejois._

 _Everything you've said and done for me… Has made a world of difference._

His whole world had been turned upside down. And what a corrupt, warped, tilted world it had been to begin with. Then… A trick. A final word of thanks. And he'd gone away, far away, disappearing back into the shadows from which he came.

Too long! Why had it taken her so long? Why had it worked at all? How could she forget Dragon?

"Where are you…?!" She screamed, feeling the tug of pain in her throat. She paused to hack up a cup's worth of blood, blinking tears from her inflamed eyes. "Am I too late…?"

She had to find him. Get to him. Right now. He had to be there already, already back in the hands of monsters who were sure to kill him once he started slaughtering people. They deserved it but he didn't. He'd be killed for sure. But she was pretty close. There had to be some way to get to Mariejois. Maybe she could climb? But it would take too long!

She felt her eyes snap open, her head whipping up as she raised the rock. She felt something like a force of nature rush up at her.

But there she saw her salvation. A force of nature indeed…

"Netty!" Bonnie screamed, suddenly and inexplicably before her eyes. She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed. As if she'd been running. And she was alone in this Godforsaken place.

But it was Bonnie.

She brushed her eyes dry with the back of her hand, sniffling as she looked at Bonnie. There was too much to say and not enough time. On top of that Ruka looked terrible, with her sagging jaw and bloody mouth, beaten hands and scrappy hair. She couldn't help the crushing weight of her grief and looked at her sister without hiding any of what she was feeling. As soon as she did, Bonnie fell to her knees, flinging her arms around her and crushing her to her chest. She buried her face in the crook of her neck and cried for a moment. Only a moment. Because that was all the time she could spare.

Then she popped her eyes and grabbed her sister's shoulders, holding her at arm's length.

"Bonnie! I need your help!" She said, desperately.

Bonnie stared at her in shock. "… What…?"

She furrowed her gaze, letting the depth of her fury show. Stupid Dragon for going back. Stupid World Government for hurting him so badly. She wasn't going to walk away from this and just let it all come crashing down.

"I need you to take me to Mariejois!" She said, and watched the shock ripple through Bonnie's features.

 _Take me there!_ She begged, silently. _To Mariejois! To Dragon!_

 **00000**

 **What did you think? Please, please, please review!**


	17. Chapter 16: Parting Ways

**Update time! Been little over a month since my last update. Ready to get hyped?**

 **I apolgize for any translation errors or missed typos. I do check every chapter with the scrutiny of a hawk, but somehow they still escape me. If you find one, please PM me and I will fix it ASAP.**

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 **I do not own One Piece. Please enjoy!**

 **00000**

Chapter 16: Parting Ways

 _So wait for me_

 _I swear I'll find you._

 _Climbing every wall that hides you._

 _I know we were meant for something better._

—Lady Antebellum

 **00000**

It was a short walk back to The Red Throne where it was anchored at Grove 29. Ruka had a feeling it was longer trek than she believed, but with her mind elsewhere everything passed in a blur.

Bonnie led her by the hand back home. Once the deck of _The Red Throne_ came into view, she was greeted by the sight of her crew jumping around like rabbits as they waved their arms at her in welcome. Tears and snot streamed down their relieved, grief-stricken faces. The horrible scenarios regarding Dragon suddenly lightened. Ruka beamed and picked up her skirt, breaking away from Bonnie and rushing to the edge of the grove. She jumped off it like a spring board and landed safely in the crowded arms of her crewmates. Everyone squeezed in for the tight group hug, burying her in their affections as everyone cried and grinned like idiots.

Suddenly Flint and Bonnie were there, having worked their way through the huddle to drag Ruka into a tight embrace. Ruka caught a glimpse of their hurt, relieved faces before being sandwiched between their two chests. The crew stood at bay, smiling. Mathew and two others were looking around, their hands cupped around their ears, uttering something unintelligible.

Ruka slipped her arms around her captain and sister, giving them both a tight squeeze. But there was no time. She pushed away and turned to lock eyes with Flint. He flinched, seeing the joy in her eyes had been replaced with an overwhelming amount of grief and panic. She lowered her head, sharpening her gaze. No time to waste.

So she told them her wish. She watched with trembling arms as they gasped, eyes popping, bodies jerking to an inhuman stillness. Flint's relief melted away into a sort of horrified blankness. Only Bonnie appeared to be waiting patiently for an explanation.

Flint twisted his head, here, there, opened his mouth and shut it a few times, not able to find the words. Finally, he choked out: "S-Say again?"

Ruka hardened her gaze, her hand lashing out to grasp Flint's shirt. She looked up into his eyes, letting all her grief and despair spill out to morph her expression. She took in a deep breath and shouted her wish:

"I need to go Mariejois! Please! We have to save Dragon!"

Flit jerked away, and Ruka's face twitched into an expression of surprise. Never had her captain appeared so… Conflicted. Or so astonished. Never had he looked so utterly betrayed.

The crew went silent, save for Mathew who was still muttering as he looked out at the island. The rest were looking around, half-smiling in discomfort, wondering perhaps if Ruka was joking or if she'd hit her head. Several dozen pairs of eyes questioned her sanity as they wrung their hands, pulled at their collars, shifted their feet. Ruka swiftly searched their faces, still fisting Flint's collar, her eyes slowly widening in horror as she met gaze after gaze.

They didn't believe her. They thought she'd lost it, or been brainwashed, or was lying to them with some sort of sick joke.

Mathew popped up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder as he said "It's really quiet!"

She brushed him off and turned to Flint. "Captain! Please help me save him!"

Flint blinked, his mouth turning up into a sort of nervous, humored smile.

"What… What is this?" He asked, chuckling weakly. "What are you even talking about?"

Ruka shook her head at him. There was no time for this!

"DRAGON!" She shouted, grasping his shirt with both hands and shaking him. "SHIRORYUU! The one who kidnapped me? He's gone back without me! We have to go and get him or he'll be killed!"

There was the flicker of confusion in Flint's eyes which quickly turned to slowly-mounting fury. His fists were clenched at his sides and his body was trembling. He was looking down at Ruka with questioning antagonism.

"Do you have any idea what we've been through?" Flint spoke with ire. "Looking everywhere, questioning people, storming the Grand Line. You were kidnapped by CP0, but I'm glad you got away—"

"I DIDN'T GET AWAY!" Ruka screamed, yanking Flint down to her eye level. "There's no time to explain, alright? I need you to trust me and move the ship—"

Flint shoved her away from him. Ruka felt her fingers untangle from his shirt and she stumbled back, not from lack of skill but pure surprise. Flint had pushed her off. He was shaking his head at her, incredulous, unbelieving. As if she'd asked something unreasonable and impossible.

It wasn't just him. Her entire crew, save for her sister, was looking at her with wide, terrified eyes. A few recoiled, squinting in disgust, looking at her as if he'd never seen her before. Ruka hesitated as it dawned on her just what she was asking. She took a shaky breath and looked at them, pleading with them to understand.

"Please…" She begged, clutching her skirt. "Please help me save him."

But Flint was shaking his head at her, his jaw clenching and shifting as he gnawed the inside of his cheek.

"Unbelievable." He said it as if cursing her, and she turned to him, not recognizing him. "Do you have any idea…" He spoke through gritted teeth. "What we've been through. Where we've gone? All to hunt him down and get you back? We actually… We were planning on storming Mariejois ourselves. Just to save you. But you just… You've been back all of five seconds and you want us to risk our lives for him? That mass murdering government hitman? Are you sick or something?"

She shook her head, honest and sincere. "No captain! Please, I need to save him!"

Flint looked away, disgusted. "Forget it. He's not worth saving. If they're going to kill him for letting you go, so be it. He'll finally get what he deserves!"

Ruka jumped, paling. _No!_

"You're wrong, Captain!" She shouted, and Flint froze mid-step. "He's not bad! He never was!"

"Oh?" Flint shot her a cold look. "He tried to kill you, probably wiped out whole families and who knows how many others! Raided our ship at night after everyone was in bed! Attacked you! Kidnapped you! And you want to save him? What am I missing here?!"

"HE—CAN'T—DIE!" Ruka asserted, a firm shake of the head 'no' with each emphasized word.

"Why not?!" Flint demanded.

Ruka felt an icy burn in her heart at that. She blinked once, hard, and felt something gather in her gaze. Something unfamiliar, golden, and tragic. Flint, who was looking over his shoulder at her, suddenly flinched in disgust and whirled, eyeing her. He lifted his head, repulsed.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." He said, as if he'd heard a sick joke. _"Him?!"_

Ruka felt her cheeks burn but stood her ground even as the whole crew broke out in gasps and astonished mutterings. Only Bonnie looked any different, staring at Ruka with an open, floored… Joy?

Ruka squared her shoulders, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

"D… Dragon is good." She stated, unwavering.

Flint marched up to her, raising his fist at her. "LIKE HELL HE IS!"

"You don't know him the way I do!" She screamed up at him. "He's not bad. He never was! He was just—" _Scared. Terrified, and for good reason. Young, frightened, and under the control of bad people. Not evil, just vulnerable. And they took advantage._

"I don't _know_ him?" Flint asked, laughing cruelly. "Well chalk that up to things I _don't_ know! Along with the fact that my trusted first mate was a girl in drag who's been _lying_ to me since day one!"

Ruka jerked, looking up in anguish. Bonnie's hands flew up to cover her mouth, her face pale and eyes wide in shock.

"Captain—" Mathew began, reaching out. Flint flung a hand up to silence him and glared down at Ruka. She couldn't bear to look at him, too ashamed. He'd finally said it. That he was angry with her.

"If you seriously expect me to risk my life, and Bonnie's, and the lives of our crew for the sake of that scumbag then you've got another thing coming!" He shouted in her face, livid. "Besides, you're wasting your time! That unforgivable, honor-less, irredeemable bastard doesn't have feelings!"

"You're wrong." She answered, her mouth moving as if possessed. She saw him then, his picture in her mind. The image of him giving that broken "farewell" half-smile was permanently burned into her mind now.

 _Everything you've said and done for me has made a world of difference._

She glowered up at Flint. Back then, when Dragon had said goodbye, he'd spoken with such warmth and fondness that she was surprised he hadn't cried. Then again, he'd been hurt so badly he probably no longer had the energy for that sort of thing. But… He'd decided to risk everything on the slim chance that he was able to help her escape them. The way he'd looked at her during their final day together… Those were expressions that said the same thing every time. _Thank you for everything. Farewell._

People didn't do these things out of loyalty, or gratitude. They did them out of love. But even if that were untrue, and he was just repaying her in some way, it didn't change things.

 _You can't die_. She thought, determination burning in her. Everything she'd felt when she was younger, struggling to survive just so her helpless baby sister wouldn't have to go hungry was now packed into a tight bonfire of resolve.

 _You won't die. I'll save you. Even if it means giving up everything I have._

"You don't know him." She repeated adamantly.

"Enough! This discussion is over." Flint declared, dismissing the subject and stomping away.

"You misunderstand captain!" Ruka spoke up, stopping Flint in his tracks. "I was asking for help, not permission!"

Flint shuddered and jerked to face her in a livid outrage.

"You… What are you saying…?" He asked, sounding abruptly terrified. "You can't mean…"

Ruka took a deep breath and raised her head. "Either you help me do this, you help me save him, or I will leave the crew."

Flint gaped. The crew stirred, some even uttering cries of "No!" Ruka kept her gaze locked on Flint, seeing that he was taking her seriously now. She knew he was. And he knew she knew.

"What are you talking about…?" Flint asked, his voice trembling. "Y-You're not going anywhere…"

"First mate's must obey their captain's orders." Ruka clarified, not losing her resolve. "But if I'm on my own, there won't be anything you can say to stop me, and I'll go save him! Even if I die in the process! If I can help him be free of them for just a moment, then I'll do it!"

"Don't be stupid!" Flint yelled, throwing his arms out dramatically. "You'll never make it out of there alive! You won't be able to do anything! You'll just die pointlessly! They'll make him watch!"

"That's better than letting him die alone! At the hands of the very people who ruined everything for him!" She shouted back. _It's all their fault. They ruined everything. They wrecked his family, faked his death, made him hate himself._ "At least he won't die alone!"

"Dammit, do you hear yourself?!" Flint yelled, waving his clawed fingers up and down in at her. "You're talking about _dying_! For the likes of him! Don't you get it, he's one of them! He always has been! No matter what you do they'll never let him go!"

"I don't care!" Ruka retorted, throwing herself forward to get in Flint's face.

"Don't you know what he is?!" Flint demanded, stubborn.

 _"I DON'T CARE WHAT HE IS!"_ Ruka declared for all the world to hear. _"HE'S NEVER CARED WHAT I WAS!"_

He was so accepting. Always seeing the truth in things. Why wouldn't he? His whole life was spent looking evil and ugly in the face. Now there was nothing he couldn't stare down, no matter what it was. So he knew who she really was, and the opposite was true as well.

On one hand, there were people like Flint: earnest pretty boys who were easily trusted because they had nothing to hide. On the other hand, there was Dragon. He didn't feel the need to surround himself with followers or friends or women. He had no desire for glory or wealth. He rarely ever ate and when he did it was always the same cheap, cruddy mess. Ruka knew why. Expensive food and company… Fame… He saw all of that as vain and rejected it. More than that, he was kind. Strict enough not to spoil her and kind enough to treat her as strong even after he spared her life or came to her rescue.

Ruka knew why was so desperate to save him. Why she fought to protect him, wouldn't hand him over and didn't want him harmed. Why didn't she forget him even after he forced her to? The answer was obvious.

So she wouldn't back down.

"I'm going after him." She asserted, solid. "With or without you. Will you help me or not?"

Flint groaned in aggravation, running his fingers through her hair. Bonnie was smiling so proudly that Ruka's heart ached, even more so when her sister stepped forward and took Ruka's hand, squeezing her fingers.

"I'm with you, Netty." She said, soliciting a look of broken shock from Flint. He grit his teeth and turned to Ruka, clearly blaming her for this.

"What… What the hell is wrong with you?!" He screamed, looking positively fed up. "How can you choose him over us? Your crew! Your own family! After everything we've been through to get you back, you'll throw it all away just to go after someone who can't be saved no matter what you do, just so you can die together? That'll accomplish nothing!"

"You—" She began, looking suspicious. Something felt off here…

"Say you're right!" Flint challenged, holding his hand up in a hypothetical gesture. "Say he's just someone they forced into doing horrible things! Say, for example, that he left you behind because he cared about you! If all that were true, then you going after him would be nothing less than inconsiderate stupidity!"

"Good!" Ruka countered, remembering how Dragon had wiped her memory and disappeared. "Then we'll be even!"

"YOU STUPID WOMAN!" Flint shouted over her in a mad rage. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ANYTHING? HE'S TRYING TO SAVE YOU!"

Ruka winced, feeling a pain in chest as if someone had stabbed her through the heart. Her arms went limp and her hands, hot and shaking in anger, slipped from Bonnie's. Ruka blinked away her confusions, allowing the agony she felt to show in her face. She tilted her head, looking up at Flint, seeing his wide eyes and mouth shut as if his lips had suddenly been glued together. Ruka knit her brow, shaking her head in disbelief even after accepting the obvious truth.

"You knew." She accused knowingly. "You were in on this? You knew what he was going to do to me…?"

Flint blinked profusely, unable to look at her. "No. Of course not."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Liar. What's going on here? What do you know?"

"Nothing!" Flint answered, too quickly and with too much panic to be honest.

Ruka's overheated hands curled into bone white fists, pulse pounding in her palms like a hammer striking nails into stone. Her face twitched with animosity and turmoil as her toes curled painfully in her boots. Her face contorted with barely controlled rage as she tried not to move. If she did, she was going to punch Flint so hard he'd suffer serious heart failure.

 _"You knew."_ She stated, growling. "You knew and you let him do it. You were in on this!"

Flint opened and closed his mouth, curled his lips back as he scratched the back of his head. It was a familiar nervous habit she'd found endearing about her "honest" captain. In place of the frustration and fury he'd held before there was only light shame and sheepishness at having been caught in a lie. Ruka felt her joints tight, locking her into place. She let them.

"You better get away from me, captain, before I learn how to move again," She warned, wide eyes shaking, "Or else I just might kill you!"

Flint twitched, abruptly horrified. "Luke—"

"RU—KA!" She emphasized, crossing her arms with their clenched fists over her chest to try to keep herself from stampeding forward. "There's no point in calling me Luke anymore when you already know! My name is Ruka! Answer me! _What do you know?"_

Bonnie leaned forward, slipping her hands around Ruka's arm, earning her sister's temporarily sated attention.

"He called us." Bonnie answered, honest and ashamed. "He said he was going to give you something to make you forget what happened to him. He told us… To give you the truth, but to leave him out of it, just in case you remembered him by mistake. He said he would go back to Mariejois and tell them you were struggling too hard, and he killed you by mistake. He said we had to hide you for a while, but then have you emerge under a new identity."

Ruka couldn't look away from Bonnie, her face frozen in a combination or dismay and antagonism.

 _How do you think it felt to call her sister a 'brother?'_

Hypocrite. Lying, two-faced jerk.

Ruka squared her shoulders, squinting her eyes as tears gathered there. She blinked them away as her hands fell open, her fingers twitching.

"I hate the bastard," Flint said, and Ruka shot him an enraged look from behind strands of messy, straw-colored hair. "But when he grew a conscience and returned you to us, I decided I wasn't opposed to making a deal, or two, or three. And I promised I'd keep you safe. I don't care if I have to use force! You aren't going after him!"

Ruka whipped her head up. Her hands stilled and she raised one, placing it on Bonnie's arm wrapped around her.

"Bonnie, let go of me." She ordered, suppressing a hiss of rage.

Bonnie looked conflicted, almost frightened. "Netty—!"

"Let go! Right now!" She ordered.

Bonnie shuddered, then very slowly unwrapped her arms and took a step back.

Ruka furrowed her brow. Flint flinched away, gulping, but tried to step forward and put a hand on her shoulder. As if he was going to calm her. She stepped into his shadow, hogging all the breathing room, her fist embedded in his stomach. She twisted her hand, hearing a loud cracking sound. Time flowed slowly, pulling Flint away from her and sending him flying away into the wall of the captain's quarters. She watched him slowly pick himself up from the mess of wood chips and split wood planks, finding the sight satisfying but only by a fraction.

He sat up, hugging himself and grunting. "What… The hell…"

"Apologies, captain." Ruka said, now holding Flint's unbreakable sword in hand. She swung it in front of her as if drawing an X in the air. "I'm much faster without all my gear. Or did you forget what I did to Dragon back then?"

Ruka heaved the sword up, grasping the hilt with both hands to hold it out defensively. She swept her gaze over her entire crew, meeting them eye for eye.

"Everyone!" She addressed them imploringly. "If you have any faith in me at all, listen up! You don't know him, but I do! Dragon isn't some heartless killer!"

 _I don't have anything to protect._

"He's got more heart than anyone!"

 _This is the only reality I've ever known._

"If there's anyone who hates the World Government the most it's him!"

 _Everything you've said and done for me has made a world of difference._

"If I or Flint or anyone else had lived the way Dragon has this whole time we wouldn't even be alive! But he survived because he's strong! Stronger than anyone! He had to be!"

 _I wanted to live long enough to see proof that they were wrong. I did._

"Dragon wanted to see someone, anyone, outrun them! And I did! I had to run from them, and change my name, and even my identity or else they would've killed me! Do you know why?"

 _You are living, breathing proof that they do not always get their way._

"Do you want to know… My real name, everyone?" She asked, her heart racing in trepidation.

Bonnie reached out as if to stop her, so she quickly told them. Her ill-favored, secret name that she'd kept so carefully hidden in her heart as she ran for her life all the way to this ship. This ship full of people that she considered family that she couldn't live without. Only now there was one more, vitally important person.

Her crew gaped at her, having heard her real name loud and clear. But she didn't have time to let it digest.

"Dragon is like me!" She said, hating the sound of it because Dragon had suffered more than she ever had. "He was targeted by them, but unlike me who ran and hid, he was caught and tortured! For twenty-seven years he's endured it! There wasn't anywhere for him to run to, and no one who would help him! Everyone thinks he's an evil CP0 child, but that's just their lie! Don't believe them!"

Flint groaned in aggravation and stood up with difficulty, brushing dirt and splinters off his clothes.

"It isn't up to you!" He argued, as if he hadn't heard a word she said. "He wants to die! Let him!"

Ruka whirled, frightened but determined. "FINE!"

Flint blinked, recoiling in shock.

"If he wants to die so bad, he can!" Ruka said, her hands trembling. "I won't force him to live! But not them! They can't be allowed to kill him! I'd rather kill him myself then let them get away with it!"

Flint gaped. Ruka cried a little at the thought, tears trailing down her cheeks. She didn't want to, she really didn't want to. But if that was what he needed, to die, then so be it. She wasn't even sure she could but she'd try if he needed her to. So long as if meant they didn't touch him. She couldn't stand it if they took his life on top of everything else they stole from him.

"What are you thinking?" Flint asked, sounding lost. "I don't understand…"

"NO YOU DON'T!" Ruka shrieked. "That's what I've been saying from the start! But I thought you would at least try to understand since it's me asking you this! Instead you treat me like an alien!"

"You…" Flint began, having the grace to look humbled.

"I'm sorry I lied!" She apologized, heat lurching. "I'm sorry I made you worry! But everything we've gone through since I first came aboard and even before that… Even if my name and identity were a lie, the person I was… That was real! None of it was a lie!"

She turned back to face her crew, putting a hand over her heart and gripping the sword.

"Luke Read, who is first mate aboard this ship, is standing right here!" She declared. "Believe in me now as you have before! I give you my word… _Dragon is good!"_

Everything they'd gone through together… Eel Island Pass, the marine ship with Sakazuki and Hayashi, Paati Island, and Sabaody… She felt the cold within her melt away at the ferris wheel memory. He was worth saving. She hadn't been lying when she said she'd do anything for him. He would regret not believing her.

"Well said, young pirate girl." Said a new, strangely comforting and familiar voice.

Ruka turned with jolt, feeling a sudden drop in the temperature. Her crewmates released girly gasps and little screams of terror, seeing the newcomer now standing at the bow of the ship. He was larger than life, overbearing and entirely hidden in an oversized black cloak like a small giant or a grim reaper, or both. He faced her, his great arms crossed over his chest, and even though she could not see his face she had a feeling he looked as desperate as she felt.

"Hey, it's you…" She said, blinking as she recalled their first meeting in the West Blue. "What are you doing here? Where'd you come from?"

Flint's eyebrows twitched in annoyance. He hunched his shoulders and marched over to her, outraged.

"How many of these cloaked wierdoes do you know?!" He demanded, but she ignored him.

The cloaked giant walked over to her, letting his arms fall. Her crewmates backed away in fear but she stared up, unafraid to meet those bright, oddly shaped eyes.

"I, too, want to save him." He told her. "Do you mind if I give you a hand?"

Her crew inhaled in surprised. She hesitated, then allowed a beaming smile to stretch across her face.

"Sure! I'm going to need all the help I can get!" She said, raising her arms out in a gesture of welcome.

She dropped the smile and whirled, facing Flint. She gave him a daring look, her fists clenching in anticipation.

"And you?" She asked, her brow knit. It may have been wrong, but she felt some contempt against her captain for all the horrible things he'd said about Dragon.

Flint gave her a hard look then swept his gaze over the faces of his crew, his eyes lingering on Bonnie. He looked back at Ruka, and she could see the trust and respect he'd given her the last two years had returned along with a storm of grief.

"Fine!" He agreed obstinately, and the crew broke out into gasps of awe and half cheers. Ruka smiled in relief. But Flint flung his arm up to point at her. "But listen. Don't expect to come out of this unwounded. And don't make me waste my time there. Whatever happens, you get him out of there. Even if it means dying."

Ruka smirked, her eyes shimmering. "I didn't come into this with half-hearted resolve!"

Flint crossed his arms, the picture of captaincy authority. "Okay men! Turns out our endgame for getting into Mariejois won't be wasted after all! Get preparations under way! Navigator, where—"

"Your log pose will do you no good." The cloaked giant interrupted, earning the attention of the crew. "The log is only designed to navigate from island to island. The Red Line is actually just different regions of rock, all locked in perpetuate states of summer, fall, winter and spring."

"Then what do you suggest, wise guy?!" Flint barked back in irritation.

The cloaked giant raised a hand and drew out an eternal pose, labeled H.C.

"Follow this." He ordered, holding it out to one of the crew members. "It shall lead you to the closest gateway. But no matter what, stay within the fog. If those in Mariejois see a pirate ship approaching, they'll use you for targeting practice. Call me up once you've gotten as close as possible to the Red Line. "

"THANKS FOR THE WARNING!" Flint shouted, sweating as though nervous. "What are you talking about, call you?! Where are you going?!"

The cloaked giant turned to face Ruka, and she could see he meant business. She waited expectantly.

"We should speak privately." He said. "There's something you should know…"

 **00000**

"Welcome back, Dragon." First greeted stoically, his four brethren behind him giving Dragon cautious and reprimanding looks.

As Dragon walked through the overshadowed doorway and into the light, he had to struggle to keep from giving himself away with his emotions. Here were the five people who ruined his life and were trying to kill the one person he truly cared for. The sun was out. The fountains were sparkling in the sunlight. The smooth white buildings and spotless windows were gleaming. It smelled like flowers and fruit. And here they were, enjoying it all without a care in the world.

 _You are the ones who deserve to have your minds erased,_ Dragon thought hatefully, _Not her._

Just remembering Ruka's expression— _Don't do this!_ —was enough to have him roiling. But he kept his expression empty, his back straight and fingers loose and looked each of them in the eye one by one.

"Nice of you to have the coms fixed." He stated, glaring pointedly as he revealed and raised his red transponder snail.

"Nice of you to bring us back a living, breathing person." Third growled, pointing one speckled, aged finger at the bloody sack Dragon was grasping.

Dragon shrugged in an uninterested way. "She was struggling too much. It was annoying."

"It isn't like you to fail in your assignments." Second commented, annoyance giving his tone an unfamiliar sharpness. "Your payment will be cut in half for this."

Dragon glowered and rolled his eyes at them, "Whatever."

 _I don't want it anyway._ He thought to himself, picturing cut throats and lifeless eyes. _It's blood money_.

"The head, if you will." First held his hand out patiently.

Dragon stalked easily over to first, raising the sack and handing it off to him. As First took the sack away, their fingers brushed, and it took every ounce of self-control Dragon possessed to keep from scalping the old man. When the brief, subtle contact was over and gone Dragon found that as agitated and bloodthirsty as he felt, he was still felt a tremor of fear behind all the aching longing in his heart.

He fought back a smirk and kept his eyes their usual dark, brooding expression. But he wanted to laugh at himself. Really he did. How ridiculous he was. How utterly idiotic it was to want to run now after all he'd done.

 _If running is no good, how about fighting back?_

Warmth hit his chest like warm, clear water.

First took the bloody sack to the table and carefully undid the knot. He pulled the cloth down and Dragon's heart leapt into his throat. He forced his body to remain stock still even as he was quaking, throbbing pain in his head quickened.

The five elder stars looked upon the head in interest.

"Excellent." Second nodded firmly. "This is indeed her head."

Dragon blinked in apparent boredom and eye the severed head with false disinterest. It was smaller now that all the fat had been trimmed, pulled and stitched so finely. The lashes were longer, and fake. The hair was dyed, cut, and messed. The eyes had been the trickiest, but luckily they'd been a dark color nearly similar to Ruka's, and were now forever bulging out, half rolled back in the skull. The mouth was hanging open, fat lips now altered and colored to appear thinner and more feminine.

The head of a Celestial Dragon, transformed into the head of a pirate.

He seriously wanted to laugh at that. It was perhaps the finest karma they'd received for their inexcusable, unforgivable tyranny. _So far._

"Now that she's dead, do you mind telling me why I had to go through so much trouble?" Dragon asked in a nonchalant, complaining, barely curious way.

"Does it bother you that much?" First asked, sounding sincerely concerned for a second there. _Gross._

"Bother?" Dragon asked, squinting in disgust. He shrugged. "Not really. But it was a pain, going all the way to West Blue for what was supposed to be a quick and easy job only to carry her halfway here and to end up killing her after she'd kicked, hit and bit me so many times. Very annoying."

He directed his best look of cursing annoyance at them. They looked as unbothered as possible, almost bored.

"Did she say anything to you before she went?" Second asked, sounding curious but obviously digging for information. What did these people hold against Ruka?

Dragon relaxed. "No. Actually she seemed surprised that CP0 would try to kill her."

That part was true. As much as Dragon was in the dark about this particular assignments details, Ruka was even more so. This was truly strange behavior of the Gorosei. With all his previous assassinations, the target had always known what they'd done to get CP0 on their tail. Some insult or act of suicidal bravery or gesture of kindness towards an oppressed party… But Ruka knew nothing. That being said... Having heard her family history, Dragon had his own theory.

"She did say one thing though." He mentioned casually. "About having a long lost brother she'd never met?"

The Gorosei gave him looks of warning, with varying degrees of irritation and outrage.

He rolled his eyes, appearing aggravated. Truthfully, he wanted to hold a blade to their throats until they coughed out everything they knew about Ruka. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was making sure they believed she was dead even after his betrayal.

"Whatever, I don't care. Keep it to yourselves if you want." He said, dismissing the subject. "What about my payment?"

Third looked furious at his attitude, as usual. "It'll be delivered to your room later."

"Fine, then I'll be leaving then." Dragon moved to leave.

"Dragon." First called out, and Dragon gave him a passing glance over his shoulder.

"Be careful not to tread into unfamiliar places." He warned, his tone grave.

Dragon gave him a brief, thoughtful look before turning and leaving. As soon as his back was to them he let a long smirk stretch across his face. So they wanted him to avoid unfamiliar places, did they? What exactly did they mean by that? Did they fear that he would dig into Ruka's past and find some A-class dirt on them? Perhaps he would look into it. If he survived, which was highly unlikely.

He left the council hall and stepped out into blinding white sunlight, where it reflected off white walls, windows, and glimmering water. A cool spring breeze blew over the flower fields, making the buds and petals dance. Servants walked in the paths, pouring water from watering cans into the gardens and pulling out weeds, their fingertips sticky with old blood. Like Dragon, they were worked half to death.

 _Are you their slave?_ Ruka had asked. How outrageous that question had seemed. But now that he thought about it, he could see many similarities between him and the slaves. So many he felt nauseous.

He turned away from the miserable slaves, working away their lives trimming those stupid flowers, and continued on. He passed several small buildings, all housing hundreds of slaves, and made his way towards the main palace. He passed some Celestial Dragons, a couple here, some children there, all playing with such happy grins as if nothing was wrong. He allowed his shaking hands to curl into fists, clenching so tightly his wrists cracked.

He pinched his hood over his eyes to keep out the glaring sunlight as he climbed the stairs and stepped into the main palace's main entrance: a large archway framed by bricks cut from sparkling white rocks. The inside was shadowed, with the main path being a wide corridor lined by tall windows, their light pouring to cast a line of framed silhouettes down the hall.

Dragon turned, jamming a thumb over a small section of wall. A section of overshadowed wall parted, creating a doorway into a hidden hall. He flew into it, letting the regions slide back into place behind him, hiding the path.

"So you really are back."

Dragon glowered. He knew that voice. He turned to see two men, one with a bandaged face and jaw, the other leaning on a crutch, their knee heavily bandaged and splinted by a strange metal and wire-mesh contraption that had iron rods sunk deep into the join. The one with the bandaged face had only one visible eye, but it was bloodshot and gleaming with a shaking, shrunken pupil. The other had a similar, sickeningly bloodthirsty look in their eyes. They both wore long dark cloaks and fine clothes underneath, just like Dragon.

Dragon smirked, stifling a chuckle. "Hello, Ocean Ghoul. Black Reaper. Those bandages look good on you."

"You bastard." Dominic growled venomously, clutching his crutch. "Thanks to you, I had to get a new knee. And Zachary had to have jaw surgery. We haven't been confined here ever since you injured us."

Dragon crossed his arms over his chest, smug. "Perhaps you should remember that the next time you decide to mess with me."

Smirking, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked through their little brigade. Both men twisted, giving him looks of pure loathing. But Dominic's mouth turned up in a look of pure glee, as if he had A-class dirt on Dragon. Dragon came to a stop, knowing he was about to say something provoking.

"Did you know?" Dominic asked, sounding excited. "We're missing a World Noble."

Dragon leaned his head back to look up at the overshadowed ceiling. He imagined it cracking apart and collapsing on Dominic, flattening him into so much inhuman gore and paste.

"It's Saint Julian." Dominic continued, and Dragon could hear the threatening wickedness in his voice. "He was on Sabaody until last night, with a few slaves and an escort. Saint Johan and Saint Julianna, his father and sister, went to find him once the crazy storm was over but everyone was missing, even the acrobats. You were on Sabaody last night, weren't you… _Dragoooon?"_

Dragon lowered his head, narrowing his gaze as he did. He did a quick sweep with his haki, finding this particular pitch black hallway and the four connected to it were all empty. Come to think of it, this was the least used entrance wasn't it? Most of the time, their operatives took the main hallway. The walls were sound proof too…

Dragon smiled peacefully, feeling his blood rush through his body in a raging torrent.

"Yes, I was." He admitted through a smile, the muscles in his arms clenching. "Actually, I paid Julian a visit. Would you like to know…Where he is?"

Dragon dropped the bloodied sack on the floor at his feet. He turned to face Dominic at the same time that Dominic turned to face him. Dragon saw the overly-excited eagerness in his eyes. But Dragon himself was far more eager and satisfied. He knew they were alone and that no one would come, even if the two men here screamed bloody murder at the top of their lungs. He saw no reason to hide clever, mischievous gleam in his eyes. Dominic took a second look at Dragon, blinked, gulped, and let his mouth fall open. There was something similar to the terror Julian had showed in his last moments in Dominic's twitching mouth.

Dragon turned on his heel, and before anyone could react, punched his sleek, black hand through Dominic's heart.

Dominic blinked at Dragon, his shaking hands slowly rising to cup the air around Dragon's wrist. His head moved inch by inch, lowering to stare incomprehensively at Dragon's arm through his bloodied chest. Zachary stood by, his one clear eye focused on the sight of Dragon's killing blow for no more than a second. A second which seemed to stretch out forever.

That second ended when Dominic's lifeless face dropped. Zachary vanished in a rush of air. Dragon pulled his wrist free with a horrible squelching sound, blood and shredded tissue dripping from his fingers. His ears twitched, hearing the slicing of wind overhead as the rush of adrenaline made his body pulse. His hand shot up, fingers clutching Zachary's bandaged skull and with one, quick movement he slammed the man head first into the stone floor. It depressed and cracked apart, blood squirting up from the open skull.

Dragon took a moment to look over the corpses. These were the two men who'd always been charged with punishing him for those escape attempts. Whenever Dragon wasn't sent to one of the torture chambers, it was these two beaten him within an inch of death. They'd laughed as he wept, kicking his wounds and breaking his bones. And now they were dead, just like that.

His face splattered with blood, Dragon leaned his head back, taking in one deep breath and releasing it in a sigh of relief. Two down. A dozen CP0 operatives, a couple hundred or so world nobles, and five greedy old men left.

He dug around inside his cloak, drawing out two bottles of Cinnamon Acid. He unscrewed the lids on both and sprinkled the concoction over both bodies, capping them again after emptying both. He watched as the acid ate through skin and bone in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing but disembodied torrents of rising steam. Dragon pulled out a hand fan and with one jerk of the wrist blew the steam away. He eyed the now clean, cracked depression in the ground and cursed himself for being too careless.

There was no time to fix it. He turned and rushed off down the hall. He needed to work quickly.

 **00000**

Dragon uncurled his fingers from his fellow operative's neck—a woman this time—and rose from crouching over her lifeless corpse. She'd been unfortunate to be assigned guard duty in the security control room today. Unlike her two dead brethren lying by the door, she'd been quick, rushing to the control panel, shoving the desk chairs out of the way, her fingers brushing the panic button before Dragon got to her.

Not fast enough though.

Dragon took a deep breath and stepped over her to approach the control panel. He placed both hands on the edge, feeling the cold metal. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't been allowed in this room even after acing all computer tests. Perhaps they hadn't wanted him to do exactly what he had planned now.

He looked at the different colored keyboards, the blinking dials and switches. It all made perfect sense to him.

He keyed in code for a good two minutes, bringing up the special window with the settings for the motion-activated emergency barriers. He keyed in the correct passcodes and selected the seastone option. He nodded, almost done. Now just one last thing…

He twisted, looking to the large switch positioned on the wall, encased in a plastic cover. He lifted the cover, reaching in and yanking the switch down.

He let the cover drop back into place and took a deep breath. He grasped his shaking arm and took another deep breath. Not now. It was too late to let his resolve wane now.

He felt warm, ghostly hands lay over his heart. Closing his eyes, he saw her again. Ruka. She was smiling, warm and healing in her nature as usual.

 _This part wants nothing to do with them!_ She said, and he nodded. _So long as they don't have this, you can't be one of them!_

 _That's because you have this._ Dragon thought, placing his hand over his heart and gripping his shirt, opening his eyes and dispelling her image. He saw the corpses on the floor, the eerie light from the computer, and felt his resolve burst to life.

He wouldn't run. He had a promise to keep.

 **00000**

Ruka leaned against the wall of the galley, with the giant stranger sitting cross-legged on the floor across the room from her. Now alone after convincing Flint that someone had to keep the men in line while she was absent, Ruka waited in breathless anticipation, waiting for the man to begin. But all he did was stare at her.

"Are you going to start explaining?" She asked, frowning and crossing her arms over her chest. "We don't have a lot of time."

"How much do you know about Dragon's past?" Stranger asked, suddenly raising his large head.

Ruka flinched at that, looking away in shame.

"Not much." She answered, knitting her brow from. "Just what he's told me. And what I was able to find out from Granny in West Blue."

"Please share." Stranger prompted.

So Ruka did. She told him how she'd learned that Dragon had been raised by CP0 in Mariejois, how he'd been a terrified child who'd attempted to escape only to be beaten senseless and dragged back. She told him how they'd met his father on Paati island, and how he'd tried to squeeze the life out of Dragon only to look on him in horror after Ruka had called Dragon by name. She told him about their last day together on Sabaody (keeping the more personal parts to herself), how Dragon had drugged her with Forget-Me-Not to erase their time together and spare her from grieving over him after CP0 killed him once he was done exacting his revenge.

"It's not that I don't understand why he did all that," Ruka said, mournful, "But I knew if he went back there then he'd be killed. Even so…."

She choked out the last words and clenched her fists at her sides. She felt the crushing weight of what he'd done hit her full force once more as she bowed her head, squared her shoulders, and pressed her fists over her eyes hard enough to bruise her sockets.

"This is all my fault!" She confessed, cursing herself.

"No, it's not." Stranger said with a touch of comfort.

"Yes, it is!" Ruka insisted, jerking her arms together as she leaned heavily on the galley wall. "All my fault! I was warned he would be executed for treason! I knew! I saw how weird he was acting, and I thought 'maybe,' but I didn't want to face the idea that he'd given up! He was so… Hurt! And angry! And lost! It was written all over his face after everything that happened on that psycho island! Even though I knew, even though I saw…! I still failed, and now he's—"

"What's happening now is not your fault." Stranger argued, and his voice was filled with self-contempt. Ruka raised her head, seeing the stranger's fists curled tightly over his knees. "If either of us are to blame, then it should be me."

Ruka dried her eyes on the back of her sleeve and watched the stranger lean over, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"I have watched him for years now," Stranger said, "Always close by, never revealing myself. No matter where he was, I saw him."

Ruka frowned through her tears and tilted her head at him. "Are you a stalker?"

"No." He said, point-blank.

"I was the one who told him about his origins." He admitted, clearly hating himself for it. "I directed him to his father. I warned him not to reveal himself, but regardless. He must've known that as soon as they found out his final hour had begun. Now that he knows the truth, the powers-that-be will go to the ends of the earth to kill him."

"But why?" Ruka begged, dizzy from confusion. "I don't understand. He's worked for them all these years, done everything they've ever asked! He shouldn't have even had to! If his dad is that marine Vice-Admiral, then shouldn't that have made him untouchable?"

"Not at all." Stranger replied point-blank. "Really, it just made him easier to get to. Unfortunately, these people have too much to hide. They've held their power so long that they've lost all sight of true justice and now are simply struggling to keep from losing their throne."

"But still, a Vice-Admiral's son is—!" Ruka insisted, overly defensive of Dragon.

"His father's bloodline is the _reason_ he was targeted." Stranger pointed out, and Ruka furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Tell me, young pirate girl." Stranger began. "Have you ever heard of the Will of the D?"

Ruka shuddered. A thought came up at that question. A horrible, awful, repugnant thought. She flicked it to the darkest corners of her mind and said no. Truthfully, her answer was no. Technically, she didn't _know_ anything. But if she thought about it… Maybe…

"Of course not." Stranger followed up, sounding so trusting she wanted to kick herself. "They've done everything they can to hide it. I don't claim to know everything on the subject, but I'm aware that there are a handful of bloodlines left who still carry that middle initial. You've heard of at least one of them, now extinct. Gol D."

"Gol… D?" Ruka asked, lost. She'd _never_ heard that name.

"As in Gol D. Roger." Stranger clarified, and Ruka saw a flash of the pirate king's final image in her mind.

"Gol D. Roger? Not Gold Roger? The Pirate King? But why—?" She began, taking off into a rampage of questions. Stranger threw his hand up, and she curled her lips back, folding her fingertips over her mouth.

"As I said, these people have a lot to hide." Stranger continued freely, lowering his hand. "And they've hidden it all very well. In short, those with that middle initial belong to a special clan, one that has existed since ancient times as the natural enemies of the Celestial Dragons."

"Natural enemies?" Ruka asked, face falling as she dried one of her eyes. "How can they be natural enemies? You make them sound like animals at war with each other."

"That's one way to put it, I suppose." Stranger shrugged. "The fated clan of D has always opposed the Celestial Dragons. I've heard things. Read about them. No matter who they are, those from that clan always grow to oppose the world government. They cause so much trouble that some of them have gone down in history as being infamous the world over. Like Roger."

Ruka took a step forward. "Wait, you said they always turn out to be enemies? Then why is Dragon's father with them?"

"Exactly." Stranger said, and she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. "Dragon's father, Monkey D. Garp, is a peculiar case. I do not know all the details, but when he was very young he met and befriended Tsugu and Sengoku, and naturally grew to join the marines. I also know that the Celestial Dragons were not pleased by this, but some of them found it interesting. They believed that if they could force the D's to submit to them then there would be no one else to threaten their rule. Thanks to that, Garp was allowed to live. But as he grew, he was watched, and many were wary of his kind nature. They thought he was too soft to fully implement their absolute justice doctrine and feared he would betray them. And so they sent someone to keep an eye on him. Someone who was not only from a long line of Cipher Pol operatives, but experienced in tracking down and exposing double agents and traitors. Someone who was sent to Garp for the sole purpose of investigating him."

"Who…?" Ruka asked, her voice shaking with trepidation.

Stranger looked at her, and she could see that he truly hated these people. These monsters who'd hurt Dragon so deeply he was now hell bent on wreaking havoc on them. And she knew she wouldn't like the answer to her question even before she heard it.

"Dragon's mother—Monkey D. Hestia."

 **00000**

"Where's it coming from?"

"Find it quickly!"

Dragon waited, his fingers and toes piercing the uppermost side of a stone pillar so he clung there like a gecko with his heels scraping the ceiling. All two dozen CP0 agents were rushing around, flying down the halls like bats as they searched desperately for the source of the green fog. As it had no defining taste or smell, it was difficult to track. More importantly, it had already flooded the palace, the fumes connecting at each intersection like snakes eating each other.

Dragon watched, his fingers and the toes of his shoes dug deep into the top of a stone pillar, clinging there like a gecko with his heels scraping the ceiling. All of CP0 was rushing around trying to locate the source of the green fog. By now it had flooded the palace, the fumes connecting like green snakes eating each other.

Dragon bowed his head. These fumes weren't toxic, but they did cause some pretty graphic hallucinations. Such a drug wouldn't affect CP0, not with their highly trained bodies that left them immune to particular drugs and toxins. But the same could not be said for the Celestial Dragons or, unfortunately, their slaves. Given how early Dragon had uncapped the fog bombs, and the precise locations they were placed, even if they evacuated the World Nobles at that moment many would still be infected. CP0 couldn't use the vents to air out the palace, either. Dragon had trashed the system with a virus, locking the set functions in place. The bodies from there had been disposed of. Now all he had to do was wait.

"The last of the Celestial Dragons have been escorted safely to the eastern ball room!" One operative shouted from the other end of the hall, and Dragon's eyes gleamed impatiently.

"Where is it?" Another agent screamed in frustration.

"Find it now before it's too late!"

Dragon ducked his head, surrounded with shadows. He didn't dare breathe. They _would_ hear him, with their heightened sense, and then everything would be over.

 _"Found it!"_

And just like that, all the operatives flooded into the same space—the slave theatre. Dragon waited in anticipation, watching until he'd counted off two dozen people at the least.

He yanked his fingers free and jumped to the next wall, digging in the soles of his shoes and his fingertips. He climbed the wall that way, leaving a trail of crumbling microscopic holes, yet he was as quiet as a mouse. He reached the section of wall positioned squarely over the doorframe of the theatre and after freeing one hand delivered a light (to him) slap.

A rush of wind, the grating noise of metal scratching marble, and in the blink of an eye Dragon had leapt out of the way just in time to avoid the seastone barrier that fell from the ceiling to cover the wall and double doors of the theatre. He heard the noises thrice more, a short pause, and then twice more. He nodded, knowing the majority of CP0 was now encased in the theatre. Even for all their combined strength, they couldn't break those walls. And with the virus, no one could let them out.

He dropped, landing soundlessly on the floor with so much airy grace, and rose to his feet. His hand went to his left pocket, but then—

He froze. He narrowed his eyes and slowly twisted his back, looking to see five fearless old men now occupying the foggy hall.

"Enough, Dragon." First spoke in such a gentle tone that he almost sounded like a parent.

 _Disgusting_.

Quicker than lightning, Dragon snatched the blinking disc from his pocket and threw his hand up, holding it out in front of him like a shield. He stared them down, finally letting all his fury and revulsion show so clearly on his hard-set features.

"What is that?" Second asked, with just an inkling of fear.

"A universal remote detonating device." Dragon answered. "I got it from the security control room."

He saw First's fingers flex but an inch and his face erupted with so much fury.

"DON'T MOVE!" He ordered, bringing one finger threateningly to hover over the switch. "You know what it does!"

"Yes, it causes every last slave collar in the vicinity to detonate." First replied coolly, relaxing his hands over the top of his gnarled cane. "And with the hundreds of slaves here, yes that would be enough to cause a fairly devastating explosion. But you won't do it. We know you won't."

 _"Try me."_ Dragon threatened, his fingers curling around the device.

"You treasonous brat." Third growled, veins bulging out in his spotted forehead. "We'll have you executed for this!"

"You talk as if I'd let you!" Dragon retorted, livid and very deeply afraid. No, he couldn't let himself show fear. Not now, at the end. He knew this would happen. Knew it would come to this.

 _Ruka…!_

"Enough, Dragon. _Enough_." First repeated, still attempting to talk him down. "We know who you really are. We've always known. We knew how much it killed you inside to murder in the name of justice, and we know how you've suffered and hated yourself over it for so long."

Dragon's face twitched ever so slightly, his eyes widening threateningly.

"We know you aren't the kind of person who is willing to sacrifice so many slaves for your own personal vendetta." Second followed up. "Even if you did, it would be in vain. It wouldn't kill us or any of the World Nobles, and you would still be caught and executed. It won't change anything, what you're doing now. So put the remote down."

Dragon relaxed ever so slightly, feeling like candle wax that had been poured into ice water—too warm then suddenly cool. He stared them down, unyielding, and didn't release his grip on the device. Green smoke churned around them, now flooding the halls. CP0 operatives were banging on the walls of the theatre, ordering for someone to release them. He'd caused quite a mess here.

He smirked.

"Whoever said I was going to activate the collars already in use?" He asked slyly, earning looks of questioning outrage from the five men. "I've adjusted the wiring a bit, you see, so it doesn't blow up any collar already in contact with a pulse."

Third and Fourth jumped, clearly having not thought of that. First narrowed his eyes, locking gaze with Dragon. Fifth took a step forward, as if about to attack Dragon before thinking better of it. Second just stared, long and hard, aghast.

"You—!" Fourth began, vidictive .

"I really have to thank those old mentors you assigned me." Dragon stated, feeling superior. "I wouldn't have known how to do any of this without them. I'm just curious, but what gave me away?"

First's gaze turned dour. "The head."

Dragon swallowed a chuckle. "Was it improperly altered?"

"No, it was perfect." First informed him. "We had no idea it wasn't Luke Read's until a few moments ago, when this gas started filling the halls and we realized how strange it was for you to fall short of your orders. Whose head is it really?"

"Saint Julian's." Dragon revealed, and watched the stunned terror ripple through their pale features.

First gripped his staff until it shattered into wood chips beneath him.

"You fool!" Second exclaimed, overwhelmed and distraught. "You've gone too far. I was hoping we could talk you down, explain why this was necessary, but you—!"

"Necessary?!" He demanded, feeling his haki burst out but fall short of reaching the Gorosei. "YOU _DID_ THIS TO ME! MY ENTIRE _LIFE_!"

He felt the exclamation burst out, felt his heart lurch at the memory of his father's horror-stricken face as he called out to him, felt his free hand clench painfully at the memory of Ruka dragging herself across plush carpet, her eyes flooded with tears and desperation as she reached out to him, unable to remember even his name or their time on the ferris wheel.

He felt the rush of twenty-seven years of hatred. Twenty-seven years of anguish and despair. Twenty-seven years of ripped stitches, internal bruises, fractured organs, shattered and cracked bones, trembling fingers and broken jaws. He could remember breathing in the smell of his own blood from lying in it puddle after puddle. He knew the sound of ringing in his ears, was familiar with the agony of a cracked spine. He knew how it felt to have his heart punched so many times it just. Stopped. Beating. Until they resuscitated him and repeated the torture over and over again.

He'd lived with the threat of death hanging over his head every step of the way.

And it was all! Their! Fault!

"Stop this now!" Third barked. "You've done nothing but cause wasteful slaughter!"

"That's _rich_ coming from you!" Dragon growled, recalling the various faces of the lives he'd taken.

"You won't accomplish anything." First informed him. "No one here will die."

Dragon smiled, laughing at that. "Didn't I mention? I've placed all the unoccupied collars in the Eastern Ball Room."

Fourth drew his sword. "You traitor!"

"Stop." First ordered, looking wary and furious, the only one appearing calm in all this madness. "All of this will become classified information. Julian's death will be written off as an accident at sea, and as for whomever else you've betrayed, we'll just list them as his escorts or guards. You cannot beat all of us. You won't make it out of here alive."

Dragon felt his smirk turn into a peaceful smile, his eyes gleaming with the spiteful, seething white hot rage one only has after being repeatedly exploited.

"I don't plan to." He admitted proudly.

He saw their expressions flicker into ones of tormented panic. He saw the green plumes of explosive fog surrounding them and smiled at the thought of death as he brought his finger down on the switch, forcing everything to erupt into white heat.

 **00000**

"What do you think?"

Kuzan groaned groggily where he lay stretched out on his beach chair. He heard the question, but he wished he hadn't. It was late, twilight. With a bright orange sunset that bathed Kuzan, Bogard, and the rest of the empty deck in warm gold. It was a fine time for a nap, and Bogard chose now to speak up after being quiet ever since they'd re-entered Grand Line.

Kuzan opened his eyes and lifted his sleeping mask up with his thumb. Bogard was standing at his side, arms crossed over his chest, a faraway look in his eyes. He appeared troubled. Kuzan wanted to believe it was their new lead on Flint which said he had crossed Reverse Mountain. But there was no denying what was really on Bogard's mind. Kuzan's friend had his fingers on his sword, looking ready to fight. Ready to die, really. That wouldn't do.

"I think we should forget what we saw." Kuzan replied, shifting his arms crossed behind his head. "More importantly, forget what we heard. But you aren't going to, are you?"

"No, I will." Bogard promised, nodding firmly. "If it's to protect Garp-san, and I know that's the only way. Not to dig too deep or get too involved. So just for now, let's talk a little. About that man we met."

Kuzan grimaced. "I don't want to."

"Why not?" Bogard pressured, sounding urgent.

"Because he's obviously Dragon." Kuzan answered heavily, finally addressing the elephant in the room. "That much is true, I'm sure. But given everything that went down and the way Dragon was behaving, I seriously don't think he's on our side."

"He used Rokushiki." Bogard pointed out, as if this helped, bowing his head warily.

"There are those on the outside who can use it." Kuzan reminded him, feeling as if he were lying.

"Yes, but we're talking one in ten thousand people." Bogard argued, drumming his fingers against his sword. "Rokushiki techniques aren't something that can be self-taught or stolen by spies. It takes years of training, and if not that a good deal of high-level stress. If we take that into account…"

"Just spit it out already." Kuzan said good-naturedly. "You won't feel any better until you do."

Bogard furrowed his brow. "If we take that into account, then that could only mean… He's one of us. Or rather, one of them. Of Cipher Pol."

Kuzan nodded, forcing himself to accept it.

"He could be from any one of the ten factions." Bogard continued, looking up. "Is what I'd like to say, but after watching him move… He was able to get a hit on Garp-san, a Vice-Admiral. That's practically unheard of, yet he did it. With ease. How is that possible?"

"Because he's not just any old spy." Kuzan admitted, though he didn't want to. "He was able to completely conceal his presence from us, even eavesdrop on our conversation. We didn't notice him until he fell through the roof and really that shouldn't have happened. I know. He should've sensed the support beams weakening and shifted his weight, but something distracted him. What we were talking about. What Garp-san said."

"More importantly, there's that thing he left behind." Bogard said, reaching into the pocket of his coat and drawing out the dagger. Kuzan looked, seeing the names carved there on the hilt. Sazu? Shiro? Which one was Dragon, if either? "This knife… I'm familiar with it. I've seen it in old Marine Academy photographs. It belonged to—"

"Akainu's father." Kuzan cut in, earning a confused look from Bogard.

"Akainu?"

"I mean Sakazuki." Kuzan amended, rising up in his chair. "It's a rare nickname, not many use it. But when I thought about it, I remembered. You know the old legend about the four seas?"

Bogard blinked profusely before slowly pocketing the knife. "You mean the one about the four guardian animals?"

"Yeah…" Kuzan said, thoughtfully. "According to legend, since ancient times there have been four seas. North Blue, protected by a yellow monkey. South Blue, protected by…"

"…A blue bird." Bogard finished, eyeing Kuzan with concern.

Kuzan nodded. "West Blue, protected by a Red Dog. And East blue, protected by…"

"A white dragon…" Bogard concluded, before jumping. "You don't mean…!"

"Shiroryuu!" Kuzan said, clenching his fists. "CP0's legendary assassin. It's him, I'm sure of it. I just know… Dragon is Shiroryuu. He's the one we saw back there."

"But what about you?" Bogard asked, knitting his brow. "If there's Akainu and Shiroryuu within the Navy, then that nickname the higher-ups sometimes call you by… Aokiji. What does that mean?"

Kuzan shook his head. "I don't know, but there's another. Kizaru. Kizaru means yellow monkey. Whatever those names mean, I doubt it's anything good."

"Are you all being targeted?" Bogard asked, suddenly afraid. "What's going happen?"

"I don't know." Kuzan answered coolly. "But if we take the Shiro from Shiroryuu, then we can assume Dragon is the Shiro whose name is carved on the hilt of the dagger. And if we think about it, Sakazuki could be the Sazu on the other side of that hilt."

"You mean they know each other?" Bogard asked, his eyes widening. "What should we do? Should we talk to him?"

"No!" Kuzan answered forcefully. "You promised to let this go, remember? Whatever's going on with Dragon, I, and the rest, I don't want you involved. Take everything we've talked about and put it away somewhere. Never think on it again. If you do anything to get their attention, Garp-san could get caught in the cross hairs. I don't want them to do anything else to him."

Bogard's face twisted with agony. "They took his boy from him! Dragon and Hestia-san, they were all he had. What else could they take?"

"His life." Kuzan answered matter-of-factly. "You. Anyone serving this ship. He's still got plenty to lose. So don't do anything reckless."

"Do you ever wonder why we're here?" Bogard asked, not sounding like himself at all. "Why we side with them?"

"No I don't." Kuzan asked, point-blank. "We're here to fight for justice and keep the world safe from criminals. Don't ever doubt why you chose this side. It doesn't take much to remind you. As for me… Well I've seen plenty already. What they've done to Dragon and Garp-san… They must have had a good reason for it. They wouldn't risk the morale of the entire navy otherwise."

"What could possibly have been worth all this?" Bogard wondered aloud, gesturing emptily to the space in front of him.

Kuzan looked away. He hadn't reminded Bogard, but there was more to that old story. The four animals had all served a king. One day, the dragon realized his king was evil and left his side but only after telling the other animals the truth. The monkey was too stupid to understand what was going on, and the bird was too lazy. But the dog was enraged by his friend's betrayal and chased after the dragon. The dog, legend said, was too loyal to the king and never forgave the dragon.

Kuzan bit back a curse. For some reason this legend… Felt more like prophecy. He really hoped he was wrong, about all of it.

Otherwise they were all in for one hell of a show…

 **00000**

Dragon stirred, groaning internally. He was sitting, leaning forward. His hands were chained behind his back, scraping wood. Probably a chair. He twisted his neck, groaning intensely, his eyes fluttering and closing pathetically. Everything hurt. Hot spots lay in splotches all over his skin. He felt bruises and cuts and something burned in his wounds. Saltwater, he realized.

"Are you awake, Dragon?" Called an old voice that had him sitting up in no time.

His eyes snapped open, and hard breaths forced their way up his battered, bruised throat. Oh the bruises… The medicine he'd taken had worn off, or rather been overpowered by the explosions. He felt the pain hit him like a train and he broke his gaze, groaning in pain and hacking up black blood and burnt gunk.

He ground his teeth, and raised his head through sheer fury.

Only one of the Gorosei was here now. Sitting in a chair, staring sadly at him was First, his long beard singed in some parts, chunks of it burned away along with scraps of his clothes. His face and hands were burned.

As soon as he saw him, Dragon threw himself forward, struggling against his the seastone chains that bound him to the Adam Wood chair, bolted into the floor by its legs. Dragon threw himself forward again and again, glowering and struggling. He shot First a hostile look of pure repugnance and let out a frustrated, mind-numbing scream.

He fell forward, exhausted and pained from so many injuries. He panted, angry. Why was he still alive? He should've died in the fire!

"Are you done?" First asked impatiently, leaning forward on a new staff, this one smoothly cut and straight. "You shouldn't struggle. It's pointless, you know that. You've been in that chair before remember? When you were a boy, they threw you in here many times, always after you attempted to abandon your duties."

 _"I was trying…!"_ He growled, furious at how First had worded that. _"…To escape!"_

"A foolish decision." First shook his head sadly, ashamed. He pinched his nose bridge, dragged his hand down his face. "How could you Dragon? To Julian? And your brethren?"

"They've had it coming for a long time now." Dragon replied with ire. "Don't treat them as if they were innocent. I regret nothing."

"Very well, let me at least ask you this." First said, leaning forward on his cane. "Where is the real Luke Read?"

"Dead." Dragon answered without hesitation. He'd known this was coming, and he was prepared. He would not endanger her. This man _would_ believe him.

"Tell the truth." First ordered politely, not buying it.

"She is dead." Dragon repeated, sounding positive. "I knew what you'd do to her once I brought her here, so I murdered her to spare her any of your torture. She did not go willingly, but she is most certainly dead. Whatever information you hoped to get out of her is lost forever!"

Ruka no longer remembered him. Flint would protect her. She was his first mate, his lover's sister. Ruka was safe. She would remain safe.

First hesitated then nodded. "Very well. I believe you. I am sorry it came to this Dragon. If I had known what you were doing out there, I would have tried to save you. You are the most brilliant assassin we've ever had. Your loss will be a profound one."

"Spare me your false pity!" He hissed, jerking against the chains.

"It isn't false." First said, shaking his head in disagreement. "We've watched you since you were a baby. We've seen you grow more powerful than any other operative. We were proud of you. But look at you now? This is not a sight I enjoy."

"Likewise." Dragon repeated venomously. _Just burst into flames already, scumbag._

"Why are you doing this, Dragon?" First asked, sounding so disgustingly grievous. "What did you hear?"

"I don't have to tell you anything." Dragon rebuked. "Besides, you can probably guess."

"My guess is that you ran into your father." First admitted, stroking his hair back. "I suppose he told you what he knew?"

"No. Actually, he never saw me." Dragon lied fluently. "But I overheard him speaking with Kuzan about how he'd lost his son 'Dragon' twenty-seven years ago."

"That alone shouldn't have been enough to give you the full picture." First prodded.

"It _was_ enough." Dragon retorted, smirking. "My name is not that common. Anyway, it didn't matter. I've always wanted to wreck all of this just to spite you. It didn't take much of a provocation."

That was true, and not. He'd never had anything to fight for before. Now that he did he was going to show them just how monstrous the boy they'd "adopted" had become. He'd resolved to hold nothing back. Too bad he was chained up now. He really wanted to kill this old geezer.

"You've made a mistake, Dragon." First said uneasily, leaning back in his chair. "You don't understand. We had no choice in the matter. This was the only good option."

"SHUT UP!" Dragon ordered, another burst of haki erupting forth, but in his weakened state it never made it past his knees. "Don't you dare tell me that!"

"But it is the truth." First asserted calmly. "There is nothing I can do to save you. In a few hours, you will be executed in front of all the people you've betrayed. However, if you'd like, I can tell you why we did all this. Why we imprisoned you, kept you, had you raised to fight as one of our operatives. I can tell you everything."

"Liar." Dragon spat, refusing to believe a word he said. "Even if you did, I wouldn't believe you. All you've ever done is lie to me."

"That's true, but I will be truthful this time." First promised, sounding overly-convenient to Dragon. "I have no more reasons to lie. You've made it all irrelevant with these acts of betrayal."

Dragon hesitated, glaring at the floor. Then he chuckled, sounding insane and threw his head up to smile daringly at him.

"Fine!" He said, agreeing. "In that case, I want to ask this. _Why did you steal me from my family?!"_

First looked upon Dragon with so much grief and regret that it made Dragon believe, for just a second, that he was being truthful. That he hadn't wanted any of this and he'd simply been trying to do good. But all it took was one memory of their maltreatment to remind him that none of this was justified, no matter this fat old fool had to say. Everything Dragon had done and endured, all that was wrong. Sick and cruel and _wrong_.

First sighed heavily. "I have always known... That if you ever learned the truth of your bloodline, this is what would happen. I'd hoped to avoid it no matter the cost. I really was trying to save you, Dragon."

Dragon spat hot blood and saliva at him, and the mess hit him square in the face. First sighed in irritation and wiped it away with a hanky before stuffing the cloth back in his pocket.

"As you wish." First said, and leaned forward. "For starters, your homeland was not destroyed. Not really. You were born in the Goa Kingdom in East Blue. But you were an early birth and very weak, and since Goa didn't have particularly talented doctors, you were moved to its sister country, Noa Kingdom. The pair were connected by a thin land bridge, once, but Noa Kingdom is a fiction now. It has been erased from minds and maps alike. Only a handful of people still know of its existence. As for what happened to it, well that is why we're here…

"Twenty-seven years ago," First spoke gravely, his eyes focused a thousand miles away, "In the East Blue, on a fine summer day when there was not a cloud in the sky, at 4:03pm, black lightning rained down from the heavens and eradicated the Noah Kingdom and everyone there."


	18. Chapter 17: A Dragon's Tale

**Update time again! This chapter came fairly quickly to me, because I've been planning it out since the first chapter. As a result, you get chapter seventeen just eight days after you got chapter sixteen. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time! Please continue to tell me your thoughts!**

 **As a side note, just to clarify, the "acid" Dragon mentions throughout this chapter isn't really acid. It's actually that saltwater/vinegar mixed he told Ruka about, the one that is used for acid baths. Sorry if it's confusing.**

 **Please enjoy!**

 **00000**

A World of Difference

Chapter 17: A Dragon's Tale

 _Don't forget to smile in any situation._

 _So long as you're alive, there will be better things later_

 _And there will be many._

—Eichiro Oda

"Twenty-seven years ago, on a cloudless, warm summer day, at 4:03pm, black lightning rained down on the East Blue Kingdom of Noa." First reiterated, his eyes hollow and severe. "And it was all your doing."

Dragon listened with jittery limbs and twitching eyes, his face the picture of astounded incredulousness. First sat before him, leaning slightly forward, his aged hands folded neatly atop his new cane. He appraised Dragon with silent understanding.

Dragon jumped, narrowed his eyes, blinked and arched an eyebrow.

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, pissed beyond belief. Here he was, awaiting execution, and the old man had promised to be truthful. Instead he started cracking jokes. "I don't really have time to listen to your cheap laughs." He grinned, raising his shoulders against the chains. "Seeing how I'm about to die and all."

"I'm not kidding, Dragon." First responded firmly. "As a six-month-old infant, you caused black lightning to turn every man, woman, and child in Noa Kingdom into unrecognizable, unidentifiable charcoaled crisps."

Dragon jerked against the chains in protest. "QUIT SCREWING AROUND! That's impossible! Lightning doesn't even strike in black shades! No one has the power to control the weather, not without being a devil fruit user, and I've never eaten one!"

"I know, Dragon." First answered all-knowingly, forcing the murderous gleam in Dragon's eyes to return. "We're the ones who forbade you from eating one, remember? We had no idea what would happen if someone like you were to consume one. You may have even become more powerful than us Gorosei. But I'm not lying. Though I do understand why you don't believe me. It _is_ unbelievable. When we sent Hestia out to investigate your father, this is the very last thing any of us would have considered."

Dragon made a face at that name, feeling nauseous. He clamped his teeth together and fell back against his chair, struggling against his chains and shooting First a look of loathing.

"You despise us." First stated, nodding. "I understand. Anyone in your position would. But we really had no choice this time. A child like you couldn't be left unsupervised, or to be raised by such a neglectful, idiotic parent."

"He's a damn sight better than you." Dragon spat, remembering Garp's horrified look once more, his anger unhinging and falling into an expression of shame and vulnerability.

"Is that what you think?" First asked, evidently surprised. "He's from the clan of D, but he walked straight into the lion's den by joining the marines. He chose the shadiest woman to marry, and didn't protect his child. He never noticed how our CP0 operatives frequently visited you and your mother before the Noa incident, and when he did, he didn't realize he'd been betrayed and continued to work hard. Someone like that is better than us?"

"So you admit you did betray him by taking me." Dragon summed up, deeply revolted.

"We aren't proud of it." First said, shaking his head. "He is a good man, and a loyal soldier. He's inspired generation after generation of rookies. Everyone admires him. We hated to hurt him so deeply. But when we found that those weather peculiarities were caused by you of all people, we knew we had to get you away from him. After that, we had a choice between letting you live in the hope you could one day be useful to us, or executing you to prevent your powers from getting out of control or being used against us. Out of respect for Hestia and Garp, we decided on the former."

"You should have killed me." Dragon stated, his hair overshadowing an expression of self-hatred.

"Yes. I agree with you." First nodded. "We were hoping back then that you would grow to be like Hestia-san. Unwavering in her loyalty, exact in her instilling of justice, and reliable in her work of exposing our enemies from within. But now I see you have too much of your father in you."

Dragon smiled weakling, chuckling at that. How ironic that he would say such things.

"Hestia-san was as impressive as you." First began fondly, and Dragon wanted kick him in the chest hard enough to induce heart arrest. "She came from a long line of 'investigators.' Their job was to infiltrate spy regimes within the World Government and expose them. With evidence, of course. We've had investigators and such since the very beginning of the World Government 800 years ago. Sadly, they've always been necessary. Hestia, since the time she could hold a spoon, was a very sharp girl. She never had any trouble tracking down our traitors, and never hesitated to turn them in. Though she never executed them herself, you could say her body count was twice yours."

That many traitors? That many people went against the World Government. He looked at First skeptically.

"Not all of them were actual traitors, no." First shook his head. "We had the traitors' families and friends meet with unfortunate accidents to prevent further revolts."

Dragon shut his eyes in dismay. Of course.

"You said 'investigate Garp' earlier, didn't you?" Dragon recalled with a sinking heart. "Did you think he was a traitor?"

"No. Rather, we suspected he might become one." First clarified, looking to the left. "The chances of this were low. Garp was an orphan who'd befriended Tsugu and Sengoku at a young age. He never had anybody dear to him who wasn't affiliated with the World Government. However, Garp's full name was unnerving."

"What are you talking about?" Dragon asked with a touch of irritation.

"Haven't you noticed, Dragon?" First asked with an air of knowing. "Many of the ones you were sent to kill… Many, many of them… Had that middle initial."

First's words flooded Dragon's body like ice water, going from his toes to his skull. Inch by inch, his eyes widened in dawning understanding that felt morelike dread.

He was right. _He was right._ Not all of them… But a good third or so had had a D. in their name!

He directed his wide-eyed, anxious gaze at First. "What is this?"

"Parricide, in a sense." First answered. "Though they were all extended family instead of immediate. When we first took you in, we'd already decided to have you trained to fight and kill as many from your clan as possible. Just as Hestia exposed many of them that were hiding right under our noses. Thanks to the two of you, we've brought the hated clan of D down to a mere handful of bloodlines."

Dragon panted for a moment then grit his teeth together and lowered his head. Parricide? "Kill your clan?" "Extended family?!" What was this?

What is this?!

"I'm sure this is a lot to take in." First answered, no longer bothering to sound concerned. "Just give me a sign you're still listening."

Dragon whipped his head up. With his teeth grit, his eyes twitching, and all the blood having left his face, he probably looked like some dead, rabid beast.

"Piss off, scumba—" He began.

An impact like the kick of a horse knocked him from the chair. He heard the crack and splintering of the wood he'd fought tooth and nail to break a billion times. When he landed, he felt the sting from the grimy, stone floor, still wet from the last "acid" bath. Buried in a heap of thick chains, with half his face burning from the "acid" and his body heavily wounded and burned. Did he look as pathetic as he felt?

First was standing over him, his cane held high. Dragon glared, albeit weakly, at him. He'd hit him with all his strength, even though he couldn't move.

"Don't talk so big when you have no power." He remarked righteously, and Dragon squinted, tasting blood in his mouth. "And I've grown tired of your uppity tone, you two-bit traitor."

Dragon smirked, hacking up blood between laughs. "How kind of you to give me a compliment."

First sat back down in his chair, looking down on him as if observing a dying house cat. He tapped the end of his cane on the ground and folded his hands over it once more, resuming his usual pose.

"As I was saying," First continued, sounding tired, "We sent Hestia to investigate Garp because he was too soft, and because he was from the hated clan of D. She stayed for a while, but when she returned she reported this: 'All clear.' We, of course, had a great deal of faith in her and believed her report. However, we wanted Garp monitored all the same. Just in case others approached him and tried to reel him into some harebrained scheme. Hestia agreed, and began visiting him on her rare days off. We don't know when it began, but apparently they started a romantic relationship. After receiving permission from us, she married him."

Dragon listened calmly, squinting in deep thought. His mother, who was charged with tracking down traitors, was sent to investigate and perhaps turn over his father. Instead, she reported him as innocent, developed feelings for, and then married him?

Dragon laughed weakly, smiling into the ground. Why did he suddenly feel like such a copycat…?

"Since her work was of the classified sort, so were her movements." First explained. "Naturally, she had no acquaintances or surviving relatives that she could celebrate with. Garp only told Tsuru and Sengoku the news, and they barely believed he had a wife in the first place. Apparently it was out of character for him to be romantically involved with anyone. On top of that, they both were kept busy with their respective jobs. Garp was a rising young star in our marines. Hestia continued to receive assignments. They didn't see each other much until Hestia got sick."

Dragon furrowed his brow at First, who stared back at him expectantly. Dragon blinked in realization and looked away.

"Oh." He said, understanding. "Me."

First nodded. "Not once, in her entire life, had Hestia ever been sick before. On top of that, she possessed basic knowledge of human biology and medicine. So she immediately understood what her symptoms meant. For some reason, this gave her the idea to stop reporting in. She didn't answer her summons or call in. She wasn't fit to travel. She wasn't handling you very well. Apparently you and she were incompatible. Rather than just make her uncomfortable, your presence threatened her very life."

Dragon's expression turned solemn. Pregnancy was not a laughing matter. It was a real threat to life and health, after all.

"We sent some of our operatives to deliver her accumulated assignments in person." First said, with a heavy sigh. "When they found her in a hospital, barely able to breathe, unable to go five minutes without vomiting, and just conscious enough to listen, they knew her life was in danger. They took the liberty of advising her to get rid of you. They tried reasoning with her, explaining the danger and the risks, but she would have none of it. She was too stubborn. She refused to get kill you even if it meant her death."

Dragon didn't know how to reply to that, so he simply shot First a look of anger. The old man made it clear he thought she shouldn't have bothered.

"When our operatives returned to report the state of her health and behavior, we knew we couldn't allow her to have you." First stated, as if this were obvious. "She was a valuable asset. Irreplaceable. Losing her would have been a waste. However, we knew she wouldn't give up easily, so we sent our operatives with a message, telling her that if she successfully gave birth to you, then we would allow her to live or die as she liked."

Dragon wasn't buying it. "What was the catch?"

First was impressed. "Very good, Dragon. Hestia missed that entirely. But there wasn't a catch, not really. That was the deal to the last letter. She just didn't understand that we meant she could only go free if we had her successor. You for her, in other words. "

Dragon let that sink in. So… This guy was a lying hypocrite after all. He wasn't going to give Dragon any freedom, not from that first moment.

"I know what you're thinking." First pointed out. "You're wrong. If you had been an ordinary child, we would have left you and her alone. But we already suspected what you were by that point."

"Yes… Apparently I control lightning." Dragon said sarcastically. "So I could even do it back then?"

"Not just lightning." First clarified, pointing at Dragon. "All weather. At that time, twenty-seven years ago, our hands were full. There were strange anomalies happening with the weather. Cyclones by the dozen, fog so thick it left our ships trapped at sea, acid rain in clear desert countries. It was as if the weather of the grand line had moved to the four Blues with a vengeance. There were many deaths from civilians and our soldiers. The masses were crying out for help, but all we could do was sail around and get lost in the fog like fools. In order to apply a temporary solution, we spread rumor of a devil fruit user with the ability to control the weather and assured the people that we were well on our way to capturing him. Meanwhile, we had our top scientists working on a solution. One of the cleverer ones built a special radar that would scan the skies ten times a day. That way, we would at least be able to predict the disasters. But it did so much more. It found strange waves rippling through the skies, invisible to human eyes, and they were bouncing off two different objects. These strange waves consisted of a new particle, one we'd never seen before, and after quick analyzation, it was discovered that these ripples in the air were what was causing the weather peculiarities.

"We determined that the two points were actually exchanging signals. One point was high in the atmosphere at a level that ordinary humans cannot reach without passing out. But the other was on the ground. We knew if we destroyed just one of the two points, the ripples would die and things would return to normal. So we assembled a team of CP0 operatives to investigate the matter. Coincidentally, two of the team were the ones who were sent to call Hestia back in. Stranger still, her position at that current time matched the coordinates of the first disastrous-weather-causing point."

Dragon narrowed his eyes at that. Meanwhile First simply gave him a sad shake of the head.

"The coordinates led us right to the pregnant Hestia." He restated, eyeing Dragon with exceptional pity. "Do you understand, Dragon?"

He glared icily, and chose not to respond. Yes, he did understand. If she had worked for them her whole life, they would have extensive knowledge of how her body worked through various checkups and tests, same as with Dragon and all the rest of Cipher Pols agents. They would have noticed by then if she had the abilities necessary to control weather or if she had any connection to the second, airborne point. As such, that ruled her out as a culprit. Which only left her unborn child, Dragon himself, to blame.

First nodded airily. "We didn't believe it at first. An unborn child, the cause of so much damage? But the estimated time that Hestia originally conceived tied in with the date of the first disasters. So we had Hestia undergo various tests, under the guise of seeking a way to improve her health while she was with child. What we were really testing was you, of course. The results? We found some strange brain activity, a sort that was unfamiliar because it had never appeared in anyone else as far as we knew. Your body too was showing strange phenomenon. As far as we could tell, there was energy running through you. Energy that was identical to the kind found only in devil fruits."

Dragon squeezed his eyes shut. Dammit…!

"We didn't tell Hestia." First continued, sounding adamant. "By that point, she was behaving strangely. As if she were full of despair. Telling her would have endangered you as well, and we had yet to decide what to do with you. On the one hand, you were threatening the entire world. On the other, it was possible you were just reacting to Hestia's negative energy. Infants have been known to sense such things quite well. Your case was perplexing. In the end, we decided that Hestia, while being an asset, was providing us with a more effective tool. One that would likely grow to be powerful enough to annihilate the hated clan of D. So we told Hestia our deal, and she accepted, not fully understanding that we meant we would take you from her. Unfortunately, your birth didn't go well. That strange energy of yours, in its raw power, had proven toxic to her weakened body. You wrecked her from the inside out, like a parasite. In the end, they were forced to cut you out of her at the last moment, and since it was an emergency, there was no time to administer morphine."

Dragon bit the inside of his cheek until blood flooded his mouth. He didn't want to hear any more. This bastard was wording everything so it sounded unnecessarily cruel. He was having fun with this, wasn't he?!

"Once you were free, we were planning to move in and take you." First explained, sounding regretful. "We would have told Hestia that you were too weak and died shortly after birth. But you were premature and very weak, and we couldn't take you without risking a legitimate death. Instead, we had you moved from Goa kingdom to Noa kingdom, telling Garp it was because their medical experts were better practiced. Hestia and you were hospitalized, kept under heavy surveillance and administered medication. We kept Garp busy, just so he would be away in case we had to move in quickly. But twice he made it back to visit you. Hestia was slowly recovering, but had lost her ability to run and now had a very sensitive stomach. We knew she would never be able to return to work even if she wanted to. After six months, you were healthy enough to steal away. So we sent our operatives to take you. Hestia, once confronted with their true objective, fought back. Even being as weak as she was, she refused to let them take you. There was a struggle, and one of our operatives was forced to kill Hestia."

Dragon glowered murderously at First. Treasonous, hateful, scum of the earth! Dragon wanted his arms free. He wanted his dagger. He wanted to cut his throat.

"This was the wrong course to take." First admitted heavily. "I mentioned it before, remember? That infants can sense negative energy? As a six-month-old child, having just seen your mother be murdered, you were unable to control yourself and reacted too strongly. Without meaning to, you called on the second point to which you were connected to. This particular ripple caused blackouts all through the East Blue. Before anyone knew what had happened, black lightning rained down in continuous waves. It torched Noa Kingdom until all that remained was a mass of crisp charcoal. One of our operatives was killed but the other hid under a mass of corpses and was spared. So were you. In the whole kingdom, the one spot untouched by the lightning was your nursery bed. Our operative took you from the bed and blowtorched that one spot to make it appear as though you to had perished, leaving a cadaver in your place so the right number of bodies was accounted for. Then he brought you back here, and told us everything."

Dragon felt the muscles in his arms clench. Enough, he wanted to say. He was sick of this. These people were sickening.

"We weren't sure exactly how you caused this disaster." First confessed. "But we know it was you. It would have been too much of a coincidence for it to not be you. We had you go to Vegapunk for various checkups throughout your childhood, remember? We continued to scan you in secret. That strange brain activity and peculiar bodily energy never went away. Eventually, we were able to come up with a theory."

Dragon blinked lifelessly at First. "Theory…?"

"Yes. You don't know about this, because we were afraid of what such knowledge would trigger," First tapped his cane and looked at the ceiling, "But 800 years ago, in ancient times, there were three ancient weapons. Pluton, Poseidon, and Uranus. Knowledge of these weapons has been lost to time. However, we do know a little. Uranus, for example, was said to fly in the sky and control the weather. It's said that anyone who was ' _compatible'_ with it would be it's 'pilot' from birth and would be able to control it. Sound familiar?"

Dragon frowned, feeling oddly numb all over. Even his burning skin, touched by the acid on the floor, no longer bothered him.

"You believe it's me." He stated, expecting to hate the words. But they were a relief. Finally he understood what they were thinking all these years.

"We know it's you." First countered, meaningfully.

"That's stupid." Dragon said dismissively, looking away.

If he were capable of such things, he would have blown up this stupid palace a long time ago. Fried it and everyone inside alive.

"I know what you're thinking." First said, and Dragon rolled his eyes. "That if that were true, why haven't you blown this place up? After all, you hate it here. If you could destroy a nation when you were six months old, just because they killed your mother, why can't you kill me now to save yourself? The answer of course isn't that you are inherently selfless. Rather, we are meticulous. Do you really think we would have allowed you to stay here without taking precautions?"

Dragon didn't bother being surprised. He knew the answer. It was painfully obvious.

"Your bedroom." First answered, leaning down to stare at him. "It's specifically designed to channel that strange energy running through your body into the walls and wiring. That's why the lights turn on so quickly when you enter the room. It's your own power, compressed and concentrated into something harmless."

Dragon stirred, his face blank as his eyes squeezed shut. That was the stupidest, most impossible thing he'd said. So why did he feel so empty?

"That's everything." First said dismissively, standing and walking towards the door. "We will hold your execution in the Void, nine hours from now. Do what you will to prepare yourself. We have posted guards to keep anyone from coming in, so don't expect anyone to end your life in a more humane way."

Dragon smiled dryly at that. The Void, hmm? He was expecting them to keep him alive just so he could be in pain forever. But they couldn't do that, could they? Not without worrying that he'd blow them up.

He heard the iron door creak open, with light pouring into the room as the old man stepped out.

Whatever, he didn't care anymore. As he'd suspected, they had never planned on letting him go free.

Still in spite of how miserable he looked, for the first time in a long time… He felt strangely safe. And happy. How could that be?

For once, everything was so peaceful.

He smiled fondly as the door creaked shut, the light within the room waning and fading.

 **00000**

"We're getting close." Stranger uttered, standing at the bow, the picture of relaxation.

Ruka, standing at his side with resolve raging in her eyes like stormy waters, leaned over the ship and peered through the misty fog. They were coasting along the edge of the Red Line, hearing waves lap the bottom of the ship and the rocky mountain at the same time. They'd been sailing for but a few minutes, so being even remotely near their destination seemed like a dream.

But sure enough, she saw it. Out there, a dark-grey silhouette standing haphazardly in the mist, was a rickety old boardwalk. Her eyes popped and she took in a much needed breath. The very same boardwalk Stranger had mentioned earlier.

"That's it?" Ruka asked, disbelief present in her shaking voice.

"Yes." Stranger answered, cutting a glance her way before looking back at the boardwalk. "We take that path into the Heavenly Chariot and ride it all the way to the top. There lies the Holy Land."

Ruka felt her expression harden, her face twisting with rage as her fingers scraped ruts into the railing, splitting it twice. She exhaled, red veins cutting through the whites of her eyes. Those Mariejois bastards. Now that she knew the whole story from Stranger, there was nothing and no one that was going to stop her from getting to Dragon.

"Is this okay?" She questioned, switching her focus back and forth between the boardwalk and Stranger. "Are we really just going to anchor there?"

"It is fine." He assured her, and she unloosened at his relaxed tone. "We've already entered their blind spot. It encircles the gateway. We're free to act as we please."

"Why would they leave the entrance in their blind spot?" Ruka asked, puzzled.

"In a nutshell, they want invaders to come." Stranger answered, earning a surprised look from her. "Entering the Heavenly Chariot is suicide."

"How come?" Ruka asked, blinking. "Doesn't everyone go through that entrance?"

Stranger turned at that and called out the rest of the bustling crew: "Everyone, gather around! It's time for a briefing."

Her crewmates were busy preparing for battle. Ten of them were lined up in groups of five by the railing, assembling chains with tough looking stone and letting them coil onto the deck like piles of rope. Twelve were sitting around on crates, polishing weapons and pouring gunpowder into bombs with delicate fingers. Four of their thinnest men sat on the roof of the captain quarters sewing together bedsheets. Three sat in a circle loading up giant backpacks with various medical supplies. Flint, with Bonnie on his arm, and the navigator were leaning over the log pose in a heated conversation. All at once, everyone's chatter ceased and their head's whipped up at attention, prepared to listen to Stranger.

Stranger reached into his cloak and drew out a map as long as his arm. He knelt and rolled it open, with four men rushing over from separate groups to stand on the map corners like paper weights. Ruka smiled half-heartedly at that before frowning again at the thought of what was happening to Dragon.

"There are three separate entrances into Mariejois." Stranger began, sounding just like a military commander. "Of those three, the one we are headed to right now is the easiest to access. It is also the most dangerous."

"How come?" Flint asked immediately, concern mounting in his voice. Ruka gazed at him. Her captain was no coward, but he wasn't one to overestimate anybody. The fact that he was afraid for them now was not a good sign, even as reasonable a reaction as it was.

"It is the most frequently discovered." Stranger answered swiftly. "In the past, many have tried to storm Mariejois for various reasons. Murdering the Celestial Dragons, freeing the slaves, uncovering secrets, or stealing treasure. All of them used the Heavenly Chariot, but none of them reached Mariejois."

"D-Do we wanna why?" Thomas asked in a quivering voice, biting his fingernails.

"The Heavenly Chariot is a death trap, literally." Stranger answered. "It was purposely placed here, in the blind spot of their surveillance, simply to allow enemies into the elevator. To put it bluntly, getting in is easy, but surviving the trip up is different. Inside, the walls are bursting at the seams with an assortment of weapons that would make any nation's armory look like a children's play pen. If you enter and your DNA signature isn't listed as 'non-threat' you will be locked inside as your chopped, disintegrated, blow-torched, pulled apart, bashed, and mutilated in other various ways."

Several members of the crew released shrill, girly screams as they waved their arms in the air in panic. Flint gave a quick order of "Quiet!" and they all slapped their hands over their mouths.

"Once you reach the top, if you're still alive, things get a little easier." Stranger continued as if he were unaffected by their panic. "But only briefly. The elevator opens out to the very edge of the Holy Land, northeast of the slave barns. There isn't a lot of security in this area. Most of the slaves are too frightened to run, and if they did, they'd get their heads blown off by those collars they wear. You will need to enter the second barn on your right hand side. Those slaves are mainly fishmen. They only get water, so most of them starve to death."

Ruka's teeth clacked together, biting back a curse. Shameless, unworthy, trash! Were they stupid or just torturing people for sport?

"Once you're inside, find a dead slave and pull on his or her attire." Stranger instructed. "Then put on one of the fake collars I gave you."

"So that's what those are for." Flint commented grimly.

"Why does it have to be a dead slave?" Asked one of the men standing on the map. "Why can't we change clothes with one of the living slaves?"

"Any slave found with your clothes will be presumed to be an accomplice." Stranger warned, and everyone inhaled sharply or shuddered. "You do not want to know what World Nobles do to slaves that defy them."

The man who'd asked nodded wordlessly, sickened.

"Then put on the fake chains and handcuffs." Stranger ordered precisely, sweeping his gaze over the crew. "They are still tough, but if you apply enough force, you can break them. Three of your own must disguise themselves as escorts. Then, you will have to split up." At this, everyone looked alarmed, but Stranger proceeded and outlined three separate paths on the map, all of them starting at the barns and ending at a different palace entrance. "Allow the escorts to lead the slaves into separate entrances. This is a normal sight in Mariejois, in which the aide's fetch slaves from the barns and lead them by chain to their masters."

"Then why can't we stick together?!" Flint demanded, looking outraged.

Ruka grit her teeth morosely at that.

"A single escort leading a single grouping of slaves is the norm." Stranger clarified apologetically. "Any more than that, and you may be stopped and questioned, which would cost you precious time. Besides, this is your best option if you want to find Dragon. There are many more escorts than slaves, because World Nobles switch them out periodically. They do not live in Mariejois, but most stay in the Visitor Lodgings when they are there on business."

"So once we enter the palace, we can disguise ourselves as escorts?" Bonnie asked in relief.

"Yes, the uniforms aren't hard to get to." Stranger marked ten different spots within the palace image with an X. "They are kept in the public washrooms, in closets behind body mirrors. You must be careful to leave everything excluding the closets exactly as you found it. These people are scrutinous and particular. If they sense that anything is wrong, they'll hold an emergency security roll call. As soon as they count the four dozen extra escorts, they'll realize they've been invaded."

"Why can't we just charge right in once we leave the elevator?" Thomas asked despairingly. "Why do we have to disguise ourselves as slaves and escorts? I don't want to look like one of them!"

Several of the crew stood, shouting in agreement. Ruka shook, conflicted between sympathy and her desire to rescue Dragon.

"If you do that, CP0 will descend on you like flies to rotting meat." Stranger answered, and everyone stilled, shell-shocked and silent. "Do not misunderstand. I am not ordering you to use this strategy. I'm simply saying that this is your best option. If you do this, you increase your odds of finding Dragon and getting out alive. Not that I can guarantee anything. It is not impossible that CP0 operatives will be on patrol near the elevator and see you exiting. A single one of them is enough to slaughter all of you. But you already know that from encountering Dragon."

Many of the crew passed Ruka looks of apology and shame here. She understood. They were upset with themselves for allowing her to be so easily taken. She smiled cheerfully at them. It wasn't so bad. If that hadn't happened… If Dragon hadn't met her…

Her face fell, worn down by her own shame. Her fists curled behind her back, red and hot with regret. She _would_ take him back.

"Moving on," Stranger said, returning to the map, "As soon as you're dressed as escorts, you will need to divide up further. These men and women hardly ever walk together. They're quite serious and antisocial. If you are seen in a group, as escorts, you will risk exposure. As soon as you've separated, you must walk slowly and calmly, with your arms folded behind your back. These people never lose their composure, they've been instructed to remain calm at all times."

"How are we supposed to look for Dragon like that?" Ruka interceded, alert at once. "If we're walking around like nothing's wrong, instead of running, we'll never search every inch of this huge palace in time!"

"That is why it is a good thing there are so many of you." Stranger replied in that same soothing, calm voice. "Each person will search three corridors each, checking every empty chamber. It is unlikely that they will be keeping Dragon in a room that isn't one of their torture chambers." Stranger broke off there to circle several spots on the map. "But we can't rule out the possibility that Dragon is currently being kept prisoner by a specific World Noble. Many of them hold Dragon in high esteem, and any betrayal by him may earn him their special attention."

"Why… Are you talking like that?" Ruka asked, her voice and body quivering. "You make it sound like it's too late to stop him from rampaging…?"

Stranger shifted, folding one knee to rest his arm on top of that knee. When he spoke, he sounded so solemn it frightened her.

"This… Is just a hunch." He stated delicately, aware of Ruka shaking beside him. "But it has been over twelve hours since Dragon left you on Sabaody. Taking into account the overall time needed for a CP0 operative to reach Mariejois from Sabaody, he may have already been there for hours. Knowing him, and what he's planning, and what he knows, I highly doubt he has not acted on whatever plot he's concocted. It's likely he has already attacked, been captured, and imprisoned. But we should know soon enough."

"How?" Ruka pressured, trying not to imagine Dragon in one of those torture chamber's he'd described to her before.

They heard the ringing of a transponder snail, it's call muffled by thick fabric. Stranger rose, pulling the snail out of his long cloak and drifted through the crowded deck like a phantom, ducking as he entered the captain's quarters and shutting the door behind him.

"What was all that about?" Flint griped, folding his arms across his chest.

Ruka crouched by the map and reached across the map, brushing her fingers over one of the circled areas. Which one was used for acid baths? Which one the blinding chamber? Which one held electric eels? Which one harbored Dragon, and what state was he in?

She curled her fingers and punched the circle, bowing her head and grinding her teeth together. Why had she accepted that stupid drink? Why hadn't she written his name down before forgetting him or handcuffed herself to him or done… Something! That way he would've understood, finally understood, that he wasn't in this alone!

When she found him, she'd punch him. Good and hard, right in the face. Just like she promised she would. And then they'd be together. Whether they escaped and lived or died where they stood, they'd be together. No more darkness, no more loneliness. She'd vowed to prove the World Government didn't own him and she would. No matter what the cost.

"Umm… Netty?" Bonnie called, sounding nervous.

Ruka opened her eyes, and saw the pools of tears on the map. She dried her face stubbornly with the back of her sleeve and gave them all a determined look.

"I'm fine." She answered, sounding unbreakable. "Don't worry about me, just focus on what we have to do."

"Okay…" Bonnie said, nodding firmly, and Ruka gave a look of such warm gratitude that her whole crew stared in awe.

"Don't cry." Flint ordered apprehensively, staring hard up at the Red Line. "We'll get him out of there. You promised, right?"

Ruka nodded firmly, her eyes gleaming with new resolution.

A door blew open and quickly shut with a sharp clap. Everyone looked in unison to see Stranger standing there, his odd-shaped eyes knowing and grievous.

"We have a problem." He told them, and Ruka got to her feet immediately.

"What's happened?" She asked, heart twinging in protest to her twisting gut.

"It turns out my hunch was correct, after all." He replied in a grave tone. "Dragon's already been captured by them. He's scheduled to be executed in front of all of Mariejois in eight hours."

Ruka stiffened, feeling a cold chill zing down her back like lightning. Her eyes shook, pupils shrinking and dilating in rapid switching succession. She bit her lip and kicked the floor with enough force to put her heel through the deck.

 _Damn them…!_

"Will we make it in time?" Flint asked, suddenly serious.

"We'll be cutting it close." Stranger answered, sounding worried for the first time. "It takes seven hours to ride the elevator to the top of the Red Line. Even if we rush things, it will still take thirty minutes to get to the escort uniforms."

"So we'll only have half an hour to search for him?!" Bonnie shouted in a panic. "That's too short! We'll never get to him in time!"

Ruka ground her teeth together, feeling chips of bone break off her molars. _Damn them…! Damn them…! How dare they…?_

"We have no choice." Stranger responded, sadness buried in his voice. "There's no way to speed up our operation, and no way to slow the execution. The World Nobles are furious."

"What did he do?" Flint questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"It would be easier to ask what he hasn't done." Stranger answered, but Ruka picked up on the pride buried in his voice. "For starters, he murdered a Celestial Dragon, Saint Julian, in Sabaody."

Ruk's eyes flew open at that, as the sound slowly died away, drowning out the noise of exclamations and even cheers. Keeping her head down, she blinked incredulously. Her mouth slowly opened, but she bit it closed. Her shaking hands slowly raised, brushing fingertips over her earlobes. Had she… Heard that right?

Dragon murdered a World Noble?

She blinked, unable to hide the mixture of pride, awe, and horror gathering in her eyes. Dragon had murdered one of his oppressors? He'd killed them on Sabaody? That's what he was doing while she was sleeping, and running, unable to remember him?

"There's more." Stranger continued, his tone sharpening with genuine respect. "He cut off that noble's head and surgically altered it so it looked exactly like Ruka's."

"What?" She gasped, breathless and wide-eyed. "Why?"

"Apparently it was to buy himself a few more hours of trust." Stranger answered, looking up at the Red Line. "Which he utilized by trashing their security system, and encasing all of CP0 in the same room with seastone walls."

"All of them?" Ruka asked, hopeful.

"Not quite all of them." Stranger denied, shaking his head. "There are five operatives missing. It's likely he murdered them and disposed of the bodies. It wouldn't be difficult."

"He killed five CP0 agents and a Celestial Dragon?" Flint questioned, counting out the dead on his fingers. "That's very kumbaya, but what's the point?"

"There is no point." Ruka answered, wrapping an arm around herself. "Dragon said he wanted to kill as many of them as possible before they killed him. That was the whole idea."

"Wait, so he planned to get caught?" Flint asked incredulously.

"No." Ruka shook her head fervently, gnashing teeth together. "He just knew he probably wouldn't get away. I'm not sure he even wanted to."

 _Stupid jerk_. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force those unwanted images out of her mind.

"On the one hand, CP0 can't attack us." Flint concluded, pinching his chin. "On the other, our time's been shortened. Can we really get to Dragon in thirty minutes?"

"If we hurry." Stranger answered. "We'll be able to move a little quicker without the threat of CP0 hanging over our heads, but the Gorosei are still active. If they find anyone causing chaos at this time, not only will they execute Dragon sooner, but all of you as well. On the bright side, those who die probably won't even feel it. The Gorosei don't like to waste time."

"Well, gee, aren't you a friggin' huge ball of sunshine?" Flint remarked, staring pointedly at Stranger, who stared on unaffected by the comment.

"By the time we are able to begin our search," Stranger continued over Flint's pettiness, "They will likely already be in the process of moving Dragon from confinement to the spot of his execution. And that's another problem. They're holding his execution at the Void."

"What's that?" Ruka asked, picturing a black hole.

"The Void, to put it simply, is a great pit." Stranger answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's an open chamber deep within Mariejois' main palace. Inside, there is an old dungeon, leftover from the early days of the World Government. It was used to torture prisoners of war 800 years ago. I, unfortunately do not know it's location, and have never been to Mariejois. But it's said that inside this torture chamber, the only thing you will find is a gaping hole in the floor, encircled by a rusty metal fence. Attached to the fence at odd intersections are bloody handcuffs and wiring. Supposedly, if you look over this fence, and peer into the void, you will be compelled to jump into it. The pit is an impossibly deep one, and no one who's ever been thrown in there has ever returned."

"Wait, is that it?" Mathew asked, bank-faced and without a care in the world. "They're just gonna chuck him down some big hole?"

"Idiots, aren't you listening?!" Ruka scolded, and Mathew jumped. "No one comes back from that place! Even if he somehow survives the fall, he could dehydrate or end up staying with a bunch of rotting corpses or worse! We can't let them throw him in there like he's garbage!"

"We won't." Stranger promised. "But you must promise to keep yourself alive, Ruka."

"I can't do that!" She rejected, remembering her promise to get Dragon out even if it killed her. "This won't work unless I risk everything!"

"You _must_ survive this." Stranger insisted, coming to stand before her. "Dragon didn't do all this simply because he was hurt. He wanted to save you. He's managed to fool them into believing he killed you to spare you from their torture, but as soon as you show up in Mariejois they'll know he was lying. You especially must ensure you're properly disguised, at least until you reach him. Once you are recognized, all of his hard work will be undone, and it is likely they will use any means necessary to kill or capture you."

"Why me?" She asked, feigning innocence.

"You already know the answer to that." Stranger answered, and she jerked away, breaking her gaze in alarm. "In any case, as much as I want Dragon to live, it'll likely become impossible if he's forced to watch you die for him. Do you understand? You must preserve yourself."

"Why do you want to save Dragon anyway?" She asked, carefully obscuring her eagerness to change the subject. "He barely knows you, but you treat him like a friend. How come?"

"I do not require gratitude in order to help someone." Stranger answered, and Ruka's expression uplifted. "It's just… There's something I want to see happen. I've always wanted it. Not just I, but many in this world. Even Dragon himself wishes for it, whether he realizes it or not. But it'll likely be impossible if he dies."

"Are you using him?" Ruka accused, sharpening her gaze. "'Cause I'll kill you."

"No, he can do what he likes." Stranger replied. "It is just what I hope for, is all."

They felt their ship hit something solid, and there was the sound of wood grinding against wood. Four dozen heads turned to look at the boardwalk, their ship bow bonking into it as the waves rocked the boat. Everyone rushed over at once, throwing themselves against the railing and leaning over to scale the path with their eyes. Soaking wet, and set in a canyon, the Heavenly Chariot awaited them as an ominous, onyx elevator three times the size of their brig sloop ship.

"Geez, it feels like we're gonna walk into a giant disposal!" Thomas declared, pointing and crying in fear.

"Who put that thing together?" Daniel asked, leaning away. "It looks like a heap of scrap metal!"

"Just touching it will get us sliced up!" Mathew whined, covering his eyes.

"Don't be fooled." Stranger warned them, earning their attention once more. "It is well designed. Once again, we will enter easily, but surviving the trip up will take all your speed and strength."

Flint nodded firmly and threw his head back in declaration. "Get all the gear together! We don't have time to waste! Once everything's packed up, we're piling into that thing!"

Ruka gave them an encouraging, grateful smile. The tearful crew gulped down their fear and threw their fists in the air, releasing battle cries so impressive Ruka believed they could frighten away sea kings.

 **00000**

How boring. So he was just going to lay here for hours, until they came to get him? Couldn't they have left a book lying open or something? Not that he'd be able to turn the page, pinned down by such heavy chains, but at least that would've been something.

Hot acid made half his skin tingle as freezing air numbed the other half. The chains he was tangled in bore down on him, slowly cracking his bones apart and leaving bruises on top of his burns. Weak and dazed, he eyed the same empty space of acid-soaked floor with disinterest.

He smirked, closing his eyes to internally laugh at himself. Useless, good for nothing. He couldn't even die right. He'd really wanted to die in that explosion rather than surrender his life to them. He had the feeling that they treated his injuries before dragging him in here. He should've used more gas. Oh well, at least he was able to see the looks on their faces when he told them of Julian's death.

If they were going to take this long, maybe he should just do it himself? After all, he wasn't gagged. He could bite through his tongue and bleed to death. That should kill him. He was still human after all, and no one would be to check on him for hours. There were no cameras in this room. It would be easy.

 _Don't be stupid, Dragon._ Laughed a disembodied voice in a bossy, decisive tone. _You don't wanna do that._

Dragon blinked his eyes open in shock. That voice…! He'd only heard it once, but he knew it anywhere. The voice of the man who laughed in their faces, trampled on everything they'd believed in, and gotten away with it. The bane of the World Government who threw the world into chaos and smirked as he went to his death…

Dragon's gaze flickered from space to space, surprise mounting to extreme curiosity. Before his eyes, there was no trace of the acid bath's torture chamber, where he knew he'd been. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but warm sunshine, glaring out in stars and sparkling through foggy air. Rain drizzled lightly, with the sun burning overhead behind so much fog.

He stretched his fingers out in joy, feeling the brush of wet grass beneath his palms. He looked and sure enough, he was lying on the softest, greenest grass he'd ever laid eyes on. Relieved, he sat bolt upright and curled his fingers, feeling the blades stick underneath his fingers. Wait, how could he move? He looked down and saw the chains were gone. Gone! Vanished into thin air!

"What is this?" He wondered aloud, blinking and looking up either side of him. "Have I already died? Just from thinking about it…?"

That was dangerous. And confusing.

"You're not dead!" The same cheerful, scolding voice from before spoke up. "Relax, a little, Dragon. Don't jump to conclusions!"

Dragon jumped, squaring his shoulders, and twisted around. There, sitting on a barrel in the grass behind him, was a man. Not the aged man he'd been expecting to see, but a young man. One with short, shaggy black hair that barely reached his ears, wearing casual clothes, and a straw hat with a red ribbon. He had a wide smirk, grinning from ear to ear, and his eyes were hidden under the shadow of his hat. He looked to be about Ruka's age, in his early twenties, and he chuckled at Dragon's uncharacteristic shock and confusion.

"You're…" He began, recognizing the man from old photographs. How was this possible? How could he be seeing any of this, especially this man! He was the most impossible sight here!

"Gol D. Roger." He introduced himself, one leg propped up on the barrel with his arm slung over the knee as the other leg hung loosely over the edge. "I'm surprised you recognize me. I didn't have a bounty back when I looked like this, after all."

Dragon made a face, one of stumped confusion and decisiveness.

"I am dead, aren't I?" He questioned, stubborn. "Well at least they don't get to kill me—"

"Oi!" Roger barked, sounding just a bit annoyed as he broke his smiling routine and yelled: "You're not dead, yet! Geez, you always so heard of hearing?"

"If I'm alive, how are you here?" He asked, staring pointedly at the impossible image of Roger.

Roger laughed weakly, his smile turning kind of sad. "I don't really know. I just heard this was the place to be today. They say that if I talk with you here, something interesting will happen! No idea what, but I figured I'd show."

Dragon shut his eyes, shook his head at that. "This doesn't make any sense."

"Is that all?" Roger asked, warm and cheerful, yet resolutely calm. "You're going to waste all our time if you just sit there overthinking things like you always do. I've got a strong hunch that my time with you is limited, and I've got a few things to say, so listen up!"

Dragon sighed through his nose. He didn't understand this, but it was better than being pinned to the ground and spending hours of boredom alone. He may as well give this dream/hallucination/ghost the benefit of the doubt.

Dragon opened his eyes and gave Roger an expectant look, which earned him a wider, happier smirk in response.

"Don't kill yourself, stupid." Roger ordered, and Dragon blinked in surprise. "It's wasteful, and it will ruin everything."

Dragon gave him an empty look. "They're going to kill me anyway. What's the point in just sitting here when I can do it myself and get it over with?"

"So you wanna kill yourself out of spite because they aren't entertaining you, a traitor?" Roger asked, and let out a bellowing laugh, before he straightened up and kicked the barrel in a fit of rage. "Yeah, great plan! It's almost as good as the plan to blow yourself up after laughing in their faces, and look how that turned out?"

"Be quiet." Dragon snapped, not looking at the man. "You died and created a new era. An era in which people are openly threatening their rule with piracy. You're laughing at them even in death. You also increased my workload, twenty-fold. Thanks for that, by the way."

"You done?" Roger asked, impatiently. "I had my reasons… For doing all of that. It wasn't to spite them, or to get back at anyone. I did what I did because I believed in it. Not because I was dying, or because there were no other options. I made my decision because I believed it was right. I _wanted_ to do it. How about you?"

Dragon sank a little at that.

"Isn't there anyone you wanna see again?" Roger asked, dropping his leg to kick his feet back and forth like a little kid. "That pirate girl? Your old man?"

"Why would I want to see him?" Dragon snapped edgily, narrowing his eyes. "This is all his fault."

"No it's not!" Roger blurted out, as if it were obvious. "He got used, same as you. Gonna blame yourself too?"

"It _is_ my fault—" Dragon began, breaking off when the barrel hit him in the face and shattered apart. He jumped, alert, but froze when he found it had not hurt a bit. He hadn't even felt it…

"STOP BEING SO DEPRESSING!" Roger commanded, on his feet and waving his fists at Dragon. "It's getting on my nerves! I'll go ahead and point it out, since you won't!" He flung his arm up, pointing at Dragon. "Your life sucks!"

Dragon blinked incredulously, then glared pettily. Stupid jerk… If he weren't dead, Dragon would kill him.

"But you're still alive, so quit being such a pessimist!" Roger dropped his arm and dropped back as if he were going to sit back down. Just like that, another barrel appeared to support him, and he'd retaken his seat with his arms crossed in a way that didn't hide how pissed he was. "Everyone's got their reasons for wanting to die. If you're dead, you don't have to feel pain anymore, right?"

"Right…" Dragon said, hesitating.

"Wrong!" Roger retorted, outraged. "Being dead doesn't take pain away! All it means is that you're forced to watch and not be able to do anything. Sometimes it's not so bad. At least you get to see stuff happen. But there are other times, like now, where you want to help but you know you can't… Because the dead don't get to interfere with the living."

Roger suddenly perked up, beaming like he'd seen something hilarious.

"That's why it's important to smile, no matter what." He shared confidently. "As long as you're alive, then no matter how bad things get, smile! Being alive is hard, but so long as you live, they'll be plenty of fun and happy things in the future! Lots of them!"

Dragon stared at him in shock. Had he just said something wise? And everyone said Roger was a compulsive idiot…

"Hey, do you remember when we first met?" Roger asked out of the blue, stirring Dragon awake. "Back when I was alive?"

Dragon spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "The execution…"

"No! Before that!" Roger insisted, chuckling gleefully.

Dragon knit his brow. "We never met before that."

"Aw man, you really forgot!" He complained, sounding bummed out, but quickly straightened up and beamed. "That's okay I guess. It was back when you were just a rookie assassin, a brat. I wasn't pirate king yet, either. Somehow, we just ended up crossing paths out on the Grand Line. I was out running around with Rayleigh when we saw you. You were a mess! All bloody, and slumped against an alley wall, snoring away—"

Dragon frowned at that. If he'd been asleep, how was he supposed to remember meeting him? Moron.

"—You looked like you'd been through a lot. We were going to help you out, but when we tried to approach you, you just freaked out and ran off. It's too bad! I would've liked you, even back then! We could've gone on adventures together, but you ran away and spent all that time being miserable!"

"What's your point?" Dragon asked, exasperated.

"You run from those who try to save you." Roger stated calmly, shrugging. "It's only happened twice, with me and with Ruka. But you ran both times, Dragon. You were raised in a way that made it impossible for you to trust people. And you're afraid for her. You think if she fights them, then she'll die. Right?"

Dragon looked pained. "Of course she will. She couldn't even handle me."

"So?" Roger asked, as if this didn't matter. "That was a while back. And she was fighting for a lie, not the truth. But you… She wants to save you so bad, Dragon. You needed that. You needed someone to care about you for once. Everyone does. If I had lived out my life without meeting Rayleigh, or Crocus, or Shanks, or the rest of them then I bet my lifespan would've been cut in half. And you're a good guy Dragon, I get that now. So I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

Roger smiled and pointed out daringly. "So long as you live… The World Government will fall."

Dragon flinched, and tried to get to his feet only to fall again. Pale-faced and numb, he looked at Roger's smirking, confident face and couldn't help but believe it. That the World Government would collapse if he lived. But how?

"I don't know what's going to happen." Roger assured him, dropping his arm. "I don't know when or where. I don't know if it's good or bad. I don't know why. But there's one thing we all agree on. And that's that you are necessary. The wish you've held on to for so long, the wish to see these people fall, it's possible. But only if you're alive. I'm a little envious. Here we were, all racing towards the finish line. And you just might make it. Maybe, anyway."

Dragon gasped, blinked profusely, looked away, looked back. "What are you talking about?"

"Just hold on." Roger said conclusively as he hopped to his feet. "That's the other thing. Don't despair. Someone is coming to get you."

"You're wrong." Dragon argued, stubbornly. "No one is coming. And no one can defeat the World Government."

"No pressure." Roger said reassuringly. "Even if you can't do it, I'm sure another will come. That's what this is for."

Roger pointed at his straw hat, and Dragon squinted at it. A worn out old hat? What did that have to do with anything?

"Just look for the guy who wears this!" Roger said confidently. "You'll understand eventually."

"You can't honestly expect me to believe any of this." Dragon retorted, looking away, a touch of sadness in his eyes. "What could possibly cause the World Government to fall?"

Roger laughed through his smirk, and the gleaming air seemed to glow around him.

"Inherited will…" He spoke with cool resolution, "The destiny of an age and the dreams of its people. So long as there are those continue to pursue the meaning of freedom, these things shall never vanish from this world."

Dragon's eyes shook, recalling a long-forgotten memory of sunshine and a good friend.

 _Hey, Sazu. What's freedom?_ He'd asked once, during an evening meal with his then-only friend.

 _How should I know?_ Sazu had answered, chewing in annoyance.

 _Well I get the feeling you'd know it better than me._ Dragon had reasoned, leaning forward eagerly.

 _Well… My mother told me freedom means not being held back by anything. But that's impossible. Everyone has to walk within the parameters of the world or else everyone around them will be put in danger._

"I was told freedom is a threat to the world." Dragon recalled sadly, wincing internally in pain.

"Oh?" Roger asked, tilting his head back. "Is that what you learned from watching Ruka?"

Dragon jumped, whipping his head up to look at Roger, who adjusted his straw hat and turned to walk off. He waved goodbye with his back to Dragon, slowly disappearing into the gleaming air.

"See you around, Dragon!" He said, walking away as he waved in goodbye. "Let's grab a drink next time."

"Hey, wait!" Dragon called out, shooting to his feet. "What are you talking about! Why'd you come? Answer me! ROGER!"

Everything went black, drawing the curtain on the strangest conversation of his life.

Dragon stirred, flinching. The pain from his injuries had returned, and he could hear his skull cracking. His eyes snapped open, once again finding the acid bath chamber's floor less than interesting. But now he was alone again.

"Weird dream…" Dragon muttered, sliding his face up along the floor to get a look at the door. It was as still as before.

How long had he been out? Hopefully, he'd killed a little time—

 _Someone's coming to get you!_

Dragon jumped, and turned in on himself. That was impossible, right? He was an assassin who'd taken as many innocent lives as there were stars in the sky. He was hated as the infamous Shiroryuu, seen as the harbinger of doom to anyone who'd dared to defy the World Government. In all the world, there was no one who would come for him. Not anymore.

 _Being dead just means you're forced to watch and do nothing._

Dragon mulled that over. The only actions he'd taken before now were the wrong ones. Would just watching really be any worse?

 _Is that what you learned from watching Ruka?_

Dragon frowned at that. Fine. He'd stick around a little longer. He didn't see any point in it, but he'd wait. Who knew? Maybe he'd see something cool before he died.

 **00000**

Ruka stood closest to the overbearing metal doors as they slid shut, creaking and groaning loud enough to make everyone's ears bleed. The Rackham pirates stood half-crouching, plugging or covering their ears with their hands. Everyone sighed in relief when the doors shut, but Ruka straightened up in attention.

Neon orange traced out in bold lines over the conjoined metal pipes that made up the walls and floors. Steam hissed from busted pipes and everyone shifted, their backs to each other as they pulled their shields (thick sheets of metal with leather cuffs for slipping their arms through) off their backs.

"Prepare yourselves." Stranger ordered, from his place at the edge of the crowd. "It's starting."

Ruka nodded fervently, teeth grit with beastly ferocity. She refused to lose herself here.

Half-pipes fell open, revealing Gatling-gun like rifles installed in the walls. They all cocked at once, and Ruka pulled her shield from her back, slipping it over her arm and bending her knees. She watched the gun barrels with scrutinous anticipation.

"Wait for it…" Flint warned, and everyone bit back curses. At that moment, they were all picturing the same thing: pirate kebobs. Luckily, they were well prepared.

Rapid fire exploded off the walls and everyone pooled together, bringing their shields together in a turtle formation. Orange light bled through the cracks in the shields, the light of bullet fire and metal scraping metal. Ruka grit her teeth and braced her feet against the ground, feeling the burn of sparks splashing over her boots. Eyes gleaming in near darkness, her body pressed against three other comrades who all grinned confidently at her. Here they were, squished together like sardines, facing the possibility of annihilation, and still they laughed.

Ruka chuckled weakly, then gasped and grit her teeth together when the bullet fire almost pressed her back.

"Captain!" Ruka called out in urgency, her arms straining against her shield.

"Not yet!" He screamed back, voice almost drowned out by gun fire and the crew's deep groans of strain and exhaustion.

Ruka's heart leapt into her chest at the sight of one of her nearby crew mates' arms slipping. Without thinking, her arm shot out, fingers spread wide as her hand slapped against the thick metal. She met her crew mate's eyes and saw the inkling of deep-buried fear there. It slipped back, replaced by blind determination and her heart went out to her crew as she felt her wrists cramp and snap.

"CAPTAIN!" She urged, throwing her head back and pressing her back against another crewmate's.

She twisted her neck and saw just a glimpse of Flint's signature battle-veteran smirk. He vanished in a whiff of explosive gunpowder and she smiled in relief and pride. A noise like a barrage of razor-sharp blades slicing up metal filled the air. With new vigor, Ruka spun on her ankle and threw her shield. It flew through the air like a boomerang, slicing away at the newest lineup of artillery. With their focus points gone, the new guns built up pressure in their barrels and blew themselves off the wall like fireworks, their remains hitting the ground like so much grated metal.

Flint was bouncing off the walls. Literally. Moving barely fast enough for the eye to see, he was a dark blur of energy scraping away at the guns, avoiding the explosions from their various ammo as he zipped about. Ruka focused for a moment, seeing him bunny-hopping over one of the guns, before jumping away to avoid the explosion. His sword gleaming in his hand, he spun through the air like a throwing star and stabbed a portion of the wall which was noticeably smooth and flat.

The walls went quiet, save for the noise of the elevator slowly making its way up. Ruka stood tall, feeling sweat trail down her back and lower legs. Taking in an even, slow breath, she looked around and saw Bonnie standing to her right, about four feet away, crouching with thin batons stuck between her fingers like throwing knives. Another quick sweep around and she was breathing easy. Everyone had made it through the first round. There were no casualties.

She sighed in relief and turned, seeing Flint pulling his sword out of the smooth portion of wall. Stranger stood close to him, kneeling to open the smooth portion with his large hands. It was a door, and behind it was a mess of hot wires, all sparking and dying.

"Was that smart?" She asked, rushing over to get a look at the ruined fuse box.

"It's fine." Stranger answered, easily and coolly. "This only controlled the weapons in the walls. The actual power source is much more safely guarded."

At that, he glanced at Flint's sword, which was already re-sheathed at his waist. Stranger hesitated, obviously pondering something, but seemed to think better of it and stood.

"It will still be some time before we reach Mariejois." He told them, turning to the crew. "We should use this time to practice your behavior. You'll need it for the disguises. We'll start with walking. I'll supervise."

"I'm just curious here," Flint began, eyeing Stranger skeptically, "But you're not actually coming with us when we sneak in are you?"

Ruka directed a horrified gaze at Stranger, "What?"

Stranger looked at her, appearing somewhat sad. "I cannot. Unfortunately, if my cover were blown here, it may jeopardize future roles. As well as endanger my benefactor."

"But you said you were going to help us!" Ruka insisted, taking a step forward.

"I have given you a reliable plan of attack." He replied, sounding reasonable. "As well as helped you survive this suicide-chamber. I have done all that I can. Please, try to understand."

Ruka's head dropped, her fingers gripping her shirt as her face slowly contorted with pain.

"Ruka." He addressed, and she looked up at him from behind her messy fringe. His eyes were kind, and direct. "These men and your sister… They are only here to support you. There's no doubt in my mind… You _will_ find Dragon. And you will escape with him, I'm sure. But don't be surprised if you come away from it empty handed."

"What does that mean?" She asked, blinking sadly.

"Keep moving." Stranger ordered, kneeling to lean over her. "No matter what you see or hear… Whatever's lost is gone for good. Take what you can and keep moving. This is the only warning you'll get from me. You will do well to remember it."

 **00000**

 ** _Several Hours Later_**

Dragon dozed only slightly, breathing in the sharp, stinging smell of the acid on the floor. His sharp hearing picked up the sound of approaching footsteps before the door even creaked open. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking into the too-bright light filling the open doorway. There were two silhouettes there. One belonged to a stranger, whom Dragon recognized as a member of CP1. The other was First, and he looked greatly displeased.

"Time to go, Dragon." First said. "Everyone's waiting for you."

Dragon smirked. What had Roger said? "Someone's coming to get you?" Well, then…

Now would be a pretty good time to show up.


	19. Chapter 18: If the Bird Won't Sing

**So sorry for the long wait. I'm back in school and I have to work twice as hard as before. Also I've been exhibiting some odd symptoms. If you are religous, please pray for me. But don't worry because I'm tougher than I look (even though you don't know what I really look like :P).**

 **Read and enjoy!**

 **00000**

A World of Difference

Chapter 18: If the Bird Won't Sing

 _I had a one-way ticket to the place where all the demons go_

 _Where the wind don't change and nothing in the ground can ever grow._

 _No hope just lies and you're taught to cry in your pillow._

—Sia

Ruka choked down perfumed air with each concentrated breath. The thick shadows hung in the empty, wide corridor like fog. One wall was lined with tall windows, each bleeding white sunlight into portions down the hall. The dull _clup, clup_ of her footsteps carried her through the light and shadow as the wide eyes of the surveillance snails stuck high up on the walls bore down on her.

Restless fingers drummed away in the stiff fabric of her black slacks. She stretched them, crossed and uncrossed them, pulled her hands free to yank her black tie out from under her dull blazer. She ran her fingers over the silken scarf and allowed herself one uneasy breath through the mouth. The air tasted of tacky perfume and sugar water. Wide, shaking eyes, overshadowed by the wide black hat, swung to the nearest window.

Outside lay a scene that bespoke peace and tranquility. In the corner of each window she could see portions of other regions of the huge, breathtakingly gorgeous palace. From the window count, there were six floors, with various towers. It was pale gray in color with numerous teal windows. Surrounding it were smaller structures of a soft white color, the Visitor Lodgings that Stranger had spoken of. Curved streets scrubbed spotless by slaves with bleeding fingers. Glittering fountains and multiple flowerbeds. Laughing tenryuubito children ran and played, resembling ordinary children in their false innocence as their slave nannies watched over them from nearby. Everything about Mariejois glowed with warmth, lain over with a thin layer of mist.

She stepped out of the silhouette of light and into the next thin portion of shadow. Temporarily hidden from the onslaught of scrutinous eyes, she grit her teeth hard enough to make her gums bleed. Their peace was only possible because of Dragon. Dragon who was somewhere in this godforsaken palace, alone and likely tortured, awaiting execution. A death sentence, when he deserved so much more.

It would be okay. The first few phases of their plan had gone well. They'd found the slave barns easily, as they were the only familiar-looking structures in sight. As for what they'd found inside, well Ruka was trying not to remember that.

Bonnie, Flint, and Ruka took the roles of the original three escorts. They pulled on their uniforms as their crewmates yanked the slave attire of fresh fishman corpses. After everyone was changed and/or cuffed, collared, and chained they gathered together in a circle, putting their fists out in a show of respect. Ruka had looked around, seeing the faces of her family stricken with determination and dripping with anxious sweat. Flint had spoken with all the authority and pride he possessed, appraising them with a look that spoke volumes of adoration and fierce faith.

 _Remember our goal,_ He ordered, _Whoever finds Dragon first needs to grab him and run. No excuses._

Ruka's eyes had zeroed in on her sister then, and vice versa. The two women shared a silent look that was somehow an oath of eternal love and a final farewell in one.

Ruka tucked her tie back under her blazer and slipped her hands into her pockets, clenching them until they were bone white with purple fingertips. _Bonnie…!_

Flint's orders were clear. The minute she got to Dragon, she was to make a run for it. If she started looking for her crewmates, there was the chance—no the definite fact that she and Dragon would be recaptured. Dragon would be killed. Then all this was for nothing. Her only choice, her only option if she wanted to reach her goal were to escape with him as soon as she found them. She would leave with him, leaving behind everything she'd ever loved and nurtured and protected.

She stepped out of shadow and into light with a blank expression, fighting back tears.

Flint had once shared an impossible story of great risks he'd taken. She'd barely believed him at the time, and quietly tucked the tale away in the back of her mind. But Flint's last words from that time stuck in her heart.

 _If you're fighting an impossible battle, there are two things that are absolutely crucial._ He had said, grinning somewhat sadly. _One, risk everything you have. If you're not ready to do that, you've already lost. Two, assume you're going to succeed. Even the biggest lies become reality if you believe them._

She was risking everything she had. She believed she would succeed. And if she made it out of this, she would spend the rest of her life making it up to them.

"Hey, you!"

Ruka came to a stop, the abrupt voice ringing in her ears as every hair on the back of her neck stood up. She went numb, turning pale, but gulped and forced herself to relax before turning to face the newcomer who'd called out to her.

It was a pair of unfamiliar escorts. Real ones. Both men, both fairly tall, with identical straight faces and stride like a duo of clones. Their uniforms were a perfect replica of her own, same black tie, suit, hat, and shoes. Their eyes overshadowed by the brim of their hats, they approached her with an odd trusting familiarity.

"Yes?" She answered in Luke Read's voice (best to let them think her a man for now).

"I hope you aren't wandering." The blonde one indirectly accused. "We're supposed to be gathering in the Void for Shiroryuu's execution."

Hearing Dragon's assassin name again sent a cold shock zipping down her spine. She raised her head, attempting to look both escorts in the eye.

"I was headed to gather the children." She lied, remembering the routine schedule for tutoring that Stranger had shown her. "Their lessons are about to start."

"Let the slaves handle that." The brunette ordered, half-turning to head back. "You aren't going to want to miss this. It's the death of a legend."

Ruka let the ire swell in her heart but nodded—"Very well."—and followed the two men back the way she had come. On the inside, she was smirking. She was worried, having spent over half the search time already.

Now she had a guide.

 **00000**

"Time to go, Dragon." First voiced condescendingly. "Everyone's waiting for you."

Dragon scowled into the floor, feeling acid sizzle in his cut lip. His gaze shifted from First to the CP1 member, whom he recognized as Fujime from old reports. The files listed colleague reviews which described him as an "unreasonably sadistic warmonger. With his blank expression, smooth dark hair and glasses he appeared excessively, deceivingly ordinary. So no one ever saw it coming when he shoved his arm through their heart all the way up to his shoulder.

"So it's true." Fujime announced, deadpanned yet confrontational. "When I heard Shiroryuu betrayed us I thought it was some sick, impractical joke. How disappointing, Dragon. What's come over you?"

"Don't be so familiar." Dragon growled, eyes narrowing into slits. "I'll cut your tongue out."

Fujime arched an eyebrow. "You're in no position to make threats. Lying there in the grime and filth like a worm. Pathetic, Dragon."

"Enough of this." First interceded, pointing at Dragon. "Hurry. I want to get this over with."

"As you wish." Fujime answered agreeably, face contorted with wicked mischief.

He approached Dragon with slow and stoic footsteps, raising his head to grin his eyes into a sick, gleaming squint. Dragon tensed, expression hardening. Fujime came nearer, one hand shoved into his pants pocket and eagerly digging around for what Dragon presumed to be something fatal or tortuous. Dragon scraped his chin over the floor to raise his head, and paled when his worst fears were confirmed. Fujime's searching hand was now out in the open, and holding a syringe.

Fujime seemed to delight in Dragon's sudden unease. He raised the syringe, tilting it at Dragon mockingly.

"Don't look so concerned." Fujime said in false reassurance. "This won't kill you. That would anger the lot waiting in the Void. We're just going to make it where you can't run away. Of course, it would kill a normal person. But CP0's former elite prodigy wouldn't succumb to something like this."

"What is that?" Dragon demanded, barely hiding how dire he found the situation.

Just looking made his stomach clench. The concoction was brown and thick, like syrup, but steam was hissing from the needle tip like chimney plumes.

"I just told you." Fujime grinned madly. "A sedative. To keep you from trying to run. But then…"

Dragon blinked, internally questioning Fujime. There was a rush of air, and in an instant the overbearing chains were off, kicked apart and thrust into the air by Fujime whose arms were in the air as if he were celebrating victory.

Dragon was baffled. But First was infuriated.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, FOOL?!" First bellowed, face warped by fury. "SEDATE HIM FIRST!"

Dragon shot his feet, feeling pain erupt at odd intervals throughout his body where his bones were badly cracked. He staggered for a breath then took off in great leaps, becoming nigh invisible. A breeze washed over him, ringing in his ears and making his eyes water. The darkness of the acid bath chamber framed the brightly lit arch doorway. Dragon quickly closed the distance between it and himself, only to inhale sharply when an overbearing shadow appeared to block his path.

First's gargantuan hand shot out to grab Dragon by his heavily bruised neck. Dragon skidded to a momentary stop, feeling the twinging pull of various injuries. He kicked off the ground, launching himself clear over First's head to clap his feet against the portion of wall over the doorframe. Clinging there with friction, he whirled on his heel, dropped, grabbing onto the brick-lined doorframe with one hand. He swung backward, then forward, letting go as he fell out into the hall. It was lined with windows, all of them leaking the same glittery, blinding white sunlight indoors. Hope rose steadily in his chest as he fell through the air. But it quickly turned shot as he felt large fingers, with strength thousands of times more crushing than the chains, close around his torso. Dragon blinked, popped his eyes, looking longingly at the sunlight skimming the heels of his shoes as he was yanked back inside. Wind rushed out from behind as he was pulled through the air in an arc and slammed into the ground. Sharp rocks sliced open burn wound and layered bruising. Cracks split the ground in a cobweb-pattern, and stone caved beneath his back as he was forced down. He felt his spine crack at the same time that his collar bone broke and he gasped out a cup full of blood. He sagged against the ground, pained and frustrated.

"Someone's coming to get you?" Yeah, right. How stupid was he to put his faith in that hallucination? No one would come for him in this place. It was impossible. He groaned weakly, his vision shaking as he went numb. He picked up the faint sound of First growling Fujime's name, and cracked his eyes to see Fujime's arms crossed over his chest as he smiled down at Dragon with an expression of twisted amusement.

"Sorry." He apologized to First insincerely. "I just wanted to see what he'd do. He got pretty far though. Impressive."

"Do that again and you'll be joining him." First warned, voice thick with rage. "Hurry and sedate him, we don't have time for any more of your games."

"Understood." Fujime replied, smug with pleasure as he approached a pinned down Dragon.

Dragon grit his teeth, squinting to focus his double-vision. Fujime came close, raising the long syringe and stabbing it deep into Dragon's neck. Dragon winced from the stabbing pain, and watched in horror as Fujime injected the hateful brown sedative into his bloodstream.

Instantly, Dragon flinched, gaping mouth drying up as shaking pupils stilled and dilated. First removed his hand and Dragon rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself to his hands and knees as his vision pulsed with black tints. Weak arms curled over his stomach and he curled in on himself before hacking up all kinds of blood and gunk. His wounds burned on the inside and ached on the outside, with every spare inch of skin tingling as if prodded by a thousand hot-tipped needles. Heat bubbled up his throat, choking him into a coughing fit. His vision darkened and narrowed, fogging over as cotton filled his ears and something rancid flooded his mouth and stomach.

 _"Get up,"_ First's merciless, hollowed voice ordered, _"You shall die before the eyes of everyone you've betrayed. Be honored. Everyone has gathered to see your demise."_

Dragon lifted his head, scowling through the pain. He turned in place to glare into First's arrogant eyes, but broke his gaze as the rancid heat rushed up his throat. He braced one arm against the ground and emptied his stomach onto First's shoes. The old man gasped in disgust and slammed one shoe down on Dragon with the force of an elephant. Dragon felt it, but without the strength to even gasp from pain, all he could do was wait silently as First kicked him into unconsciousness.

 **00000**

"What do you know about him?" Ruka asked in Luke Red's voice as she followed the two men deeper into the palace.

They both cast her questioning gazes over their shoulders before turning away with semi-eye-rolls and speeding up a bit. She bit her cheek to hide the frown that threatened to consume her face. Weren't these people supposed to be professional and emotionless twenty-four-seven? Why were they being so dramatic?

"You really are new aren't you?" The Brunette asked, as if she were being unreasonable. "What's your name?"

"Luke." She answered off the top of her head.

"I'm Elliot," The Brunette responded, nodded at his colleague, "This is Aoi. To answer your question, we don't know anything. We've never seen him before."

Ruka knit her brow. "But you both serve the Celestial Dragons."

"We escorts and CP0 both keep to ourselves." Aoi explained dully. "We're busy, after all. So no, we've never seen him, but we hear about him all the time. He's their favorite. That's why they're all gathering for his execution. They want to show him how disappointed they are as he dies."

"I see." Ruka replied dryly, hiding coursing, fresh rage behind placid eyes.

"It's such a waste." Elliot sighed as they turned the bend. "CP0's never had a more talented operative. Shriroryuu's been their poster child since forever, you know?"

"Poster child…" Ruka said, eyes hardening under the brim of her hat.

"Even though they're a stealth faction, Shiroryuu's name is known by many." Aoi followed up. "He's taken on all the biggest challenges, the hardest jobs, since he was twelve. His first few assignments didn't go smoothly, so people are more aware of him than other operatives. CP0 spread the assassin name in the shadows, but other people spread the stories. It made things easier for us, actually. Whenever someone went missing, or died suddenly, or met an unexpected end, people blamed Shiroryuu. Everyone thinks of him as a sadistic, cannibalistic, depraved beast."

Ruka folded her hands behind her back, clenched her fists, feeling blood trail from her palms where her nails bit into the skin. Bastards… blaming Dragon for everything made things easier on them? She wanted her sword. She wanted to break their spines. Maybe then they'd understand a little of his pain.

"Too bad. Our workloads will increase once he's gone, of course." Aoi spoke to Elliot, crossing his arms over his chest. "CP0 too. Think of the paperwork. The bodies. The Tenryuubito always order more assassinations when they get fussy."

Ruka bit into her cheek, hard, and blood flooded her mouth. Fussy?! Dragon was sent out to murder people by the dozen whenever the nobles were in a bad mood?!

"It's for the best." Elliot said, and Ruka's blood pressure shot through the roof. "That one's always been different from the others. He doesn't possess the same sanity as the rest. Everyone knows he's a monster."

"Monster?" Ruka asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

"Of course." Elliot shot her a blank, obvious look. "When he was ten, he shoved ten slaves into the Heavenly Chariot and locked the door. Put a recording device inside to capture the sounds of the slaughter. When he was six, he pushed a visitor over the edge of the Red Line. Poor man fell to his death. When he was four, he carved different messages into the foreheads of some prisoners of war. When he was two, he killed all the pets and mermaids that the noble children got tired of. Anyone capable of those things was born a savage."

Ruka's shaking fingers curled tight around her wrists, bruising the skin.

"But he did all that on orders from the Celestial Dragons, didn't he?" She asked, seeing red.

"Well of course." Elliot answered, and Ruka's shoulders jerked inward. "Doesn't change how sick it all was, does it? If he had any humanity he wouldn't have been able to handle all that. He would've killed himself a long time ago."

Ruka bowed her head slightly, squeezed her eyes shut. Anger forced fresh tears into her eyes. She fought and pushed them back, plagued by visions of Dragon flashing past her mind's eyes like video footage.

"I heard he did try to kill himself." Aoi argued, and Ruka's eyes widened slowly in shock as her blood ran cold. "Quite a few times, actually. Once he walked in on one of the Gorosei's meetings and pulled out like ten grenades. Tried to blow them and himself halfway to hell. It didn't work, though he did manage to injure himself pretty bad. He almost went blind."

Ruka felt her mouth tighten, pulled back in a strained, anguished frown as hot tears gathered in her trembling eyes and trailed down her pale, ashen cheeks.

"If it were really a priority to die he wouldn't have let them stop him." Elliot countered matter-of-factly. "But maybe it is good that he survived as long as he did. He's made himself useful up until now."

"That was the least he could do." Aoi nodded firmly. "Everyone owes everything they have to the Celestial Dragon's."

Ruka felt her pulse race as blood rushed through her system, driven by surging rage and pain. Was this how they thought of him? That they could just use him and throw him away like this was repulsive. No wonder he wanted to kill them all.

 _I understand Dragon._

"What do you think, Luke?" Elliot asked, slowly looking over his shoulder. "Isn't he just—"

But Elliot cut off, freezing mid-step with Aoi continuing ahead of them. He flinched, caught himself, turned his head so he was better facing Ruka. His cold, judging eyes narrowed, as if seeing her for the first time. She kept her head down, one dark eye peering up from under the brim of her hat to glare coldly at Elliot. Her expression warped and her eyes thick with loathing struck Elliot like a bolt of lightning and his cool demeanor quickly did a one-eighty.

"YOU!" He shouted, whipping out a gun from inside his jacket and making Aoi whirl in response to the sudden distress.

Ruka took a leap forward, ducking the first bullet as she pulled out the dagger concealed under her shirt. Shorter and faster than Elliot, she closed the distance between them and lashed out with the knife, cutting through thick clothing and hard muscle. Blood sprayed from the wounds, painting a red X across Elliot's chest.

He stumbled back but quickly caught himself, pressing one hand over the intersection of the wound and raising his gun to fire. Ruka danced through the gunfire in a series of rapid hop-skips, bringing her closer to Elliot once again. She ripped into the air with her dagger, but Elliot was smarter this time and moved away. A tiny cut ripped across his wrist, too thin to touch his vein.

Ruka came to an abrupt stop, raising the dagger to clasp it in laced fingers with a vicious look on her face. Aoi recovered and whipped out two guns, one in each hand. She heard the click of the triggers before the bullets fired and she quickly skipped up the wall. Kicking off the roof, she shot down to land on Aoi's shoulders. She threw her knife at Elliot, but he caught the blade between his fingers.

Aoi raised both guns, firing. Ruka crossed her legs and tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair as she leaned back, just barely managing to keep her head. Teeth ground and gaze gleamed as she snatched both of Aoi's guns up in one hand. She tossed one in the air and pointed the other at the butt of her dagger, where it was trapped between Elliot's fingers. She pulled the trigger and heard a dull, empty click that made her heart stop.

Gasping, her panicked eyes landed on the gun. The safety! When did he—?!

Something hard, blunt and heavy knocked into her nose, forcing a waterfall of blood from both nostrils and cracking her nose bridge. She fell off his Aoi's shoulders, back hitting the ground hard. A groan of pain died behind gritted teeth. Holding one hand over her nose, she rolled away to avoid Aoi's ground-cracking stomp. She came up crouching and forced herself to her feet, stumbling back until she felt her back hit the wall. She pressed her hand over nose and braced her free arm against the wall as she glared the two approaching escorts down.

"Who are you really?" Aoi asked, having retrieved his guns and aiming both at her heart. "Answer quickly."

Ruka balled her fist under her nose and wiped the blood away with the back of her hand.

"What do you want?" Elliot demanded, both hands holding up his one gun. Ruka examined him closely. He was losing a lot of blood, and his hands were shaking. Her dagger was sticking out of the pocket in his pants.

The nails of her free hand scraped long cuts in the smooth painted wall. The mental clock in her head was ticking away. She didn't have time for this. Dragon's execution was supposed to take place in ten minutes.

She punched her fist into her palm, turned her head to spit the blood out of her mouth, and looked the two escorts in the eye.

"Move it!" She ordered.

"No. What are you doing here?" Elliot asked in a demanding tone, raising his gun to her skull.

Ruka took a deep breath through the nose and kicked away from the wall. Gunfire echoed through the hall. She swerved mid-step, managing to save her vital organs at the cost of her left shoulder and right thigh. Her legs nearly gave but she bit her teeth and leapt forward, elbowing Elliot in the neck with all her strength. He choked, lost his grip, and dropped his gun. She caught it haphazardly in cupped hands, eyes lighting up like quicksilver before shoving the barrel end under Elliot's chin to pull the trigger.

Aoi was unfazed as his colleague's lifeless body hit the ground. In a split second, both escort and pirate threw their arms out, aiming guns at irreplaceable vitals, with Ruka's barrel smoking like a chimney.

She panted, her wide, unblinking eyes focused on Aoi's cold gaze. Such lightless eyes, almost the same as Dragon's had been on that moonlit night. But there was the matter of heart, which Dragon had, and these men did not.

"I don't have time for this." She snapped, unyielding. "How do I get to the Void? Tell me or you'll end up just like you're friend here."

Aoi grinned. "I thought so. You're here to rescue him? I know you're a pirate, but how stupid can you be?"

"Tell me how to get to him!" She demanded, hysteria creeping into her voice. No time, no time!

"No! He deserves what he's getting!" Aoi said with smug conviction. "But I get why you want to rescue him. You blew Elliot's brains out without blinking. You're no different from CP0's little slave monster—!"

"SHUT UP!" Ruka ordered, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet embedded itself in Aoi's left chest. He clutched the wound as he fell back, gritting his teeth as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. He looked at Ruka, still smug, as if she had confirmed his beliefs of her. But his gaze shook with fear, and that made Ruka feel triumphant.

Ruka stomped down on his wound, eliciting a cry of pain, and crouched to shove the gun barrel into Aoi's mouth.

"Dragon's not a monster!" She declared, fingers twitching around the trigger with eagerness. "That's you guys! Tell me how to get to the Void, now!"

Aoi laughed, the noise muffled and choked off by the gun gagging him. He smiled, shook his head no, and watched gleefully as panic warped her expression into pale, sweat-drowned anxiety.

Two things happened very quickly. First, she felt the tip of a blade dig threateningly into the back of her neck. Before she could react, rapid footsteps at speed that rivalled her own rushed up from ahead of her. She raised her head to see a curtain of startling, bright pink fly through the air as a barrage of knives buried themselves in the new, unknown enemy who'd snuck up on Ruka.

Her comrade landed on the balls of her feet behind her, knives clenched between fingers and expression fierce.

Ruka sighed, smiling, and raised her head gratefully.

"Thank you," She spoke softly, "Bonnie."

"Don't thank me yet, Netty!" Bonnie replied urgently.

Hearing the alarm in her voice, Ruka quickly knocked Aoi out with her gun and twisted her back to stare wide eyed at a crowd of escorts. They were all glaring down at them with bloodthirsty looks, brandishing high caliber artillery. Except for their hair color, they all looked the same. Like brainwashed clones.

Ruka stood, stepping backwards over Aoi and walking over to join Bonnie. She snatched her dagger from Elliot's blood-stained pocket, but held on to Aoi's gun. Now shoulder to shoulder with Bonnie, she frowned at the bloodthirsty crowd before her and clutched both weapons in her hands.

"Shouldn't you be with the captain?" She politely asked as she wiped the bloody blade on her pants and raised the hilt to her mouth, biting it between her teeth.

"Flint can handle himself." Bonnie replied without taking her eyes off the enemy. "It's you who needs me now."

Ruka cocked her gun and spun it in her palm before grasping it.

"You two are enemies and outsiders." One of the escorts spoke up. "You will be captured and interrogated, then executed in the name of the World Nobles."

"Yeah, yeah…" Ruka droned on as her gaze flitted up and over the walls. Three windows and six torches. She tapped her outer thigh nine times and bit the inside of her cheek. Did she have enough ammo? There was no way they would just stand there and let her check.

"Bonnie, do you have any guns?" She asked quietly, eliciting a frown of concern from Bonnie.

Her sister jerked her arms back, fingers spread, and in the blink of an eye six throwing knives appeared between her fingers. She pressed her knuckles together and met Ruka's eyes, silently questioning her.

Ruka smiled, chuckling giddily. That would do.

Both pirates threw their arms up at once. The army of escorts didn't hesitate to open fire on them, but they had already struck the first blows, taking out the nearest windows and torches. Glass exploded inwards, sunlight bouncing off the shards. Powdered glass and glaring sunlight served well to blind the escorts. The few that were quick enough to move away from the windows were caught in a hailstorm of ash, spark and charcoal from the destroyed torches.

The girls ran through the crowd, taking advantage of the chaos to make a run for the next corridor. One escort reached out, one eye squeezed shut and the other twitched, narrowed and teary. He hooked one arm around Bonnie's neck, but both pirates were quick to react. Ruka, determined and fearful on her sister's behalf, twisted on her toes to fire her last bullet into the enemy's collarbone. Bonnie reached back with both hands, stabbing the tips of her knives into his face. He grunted in pain and loosened his grip just enough for Bonnie to elbow him in the neck and get away.

Bonnie skipped over to her and together they hopped, kicked, and punched their way through the crowd. They exited the chaos of disoriented escorts and rushed away at top speed, rounding one corner and then another.

Ruka frowned, panting with one hand pressed over her bullet wound.

"Netty, you're bleeding!" Bonnie exclaimed in a gust of panicked breath.

Ruka sighed and gasped, feeling her wounds with every leap. "I'm fine. But now I've lost my guide. And we've only got—" She yanked the timer from her pocket and bit back a curse, overwhelmed by a different sort of pain. "—Less than five minutes to get to Dragon!"

"Don't worry, that's the other reason I'm here!" Bonnie said reassuringly, raising one fist and tossing a balled paper at Ruka, who caught it gratefully, already guessing what it was. "Our crew retrieved that from one of the rooms. It was filled with computers, so we were able to print up—"

"Blueprints!" Ruka exclaimed, teary-eyed, overjoyed relief making her light up. She flinched inwardly, and her frantic eyes scanned the map. She choked on her own breath and came skidding to a stop.

"Netty?!" Bonnie questioned, stopping and jumping back to Ruka's side.

Ruka stopped dead in front of a blank, windowless wall. Teeth grit, she pulled her leg back and swung her foot forward, kicking in a small hidden switch. It sank away with the sound of grinding metal and Ruka backed away. A door-shaped portion of wall fell through a new opening in the floor, and they were left staring down a pitch-black hallway going deep into the heart of the palace.

"Come on!" Ruka screamed, and took off into the shadows. Bonnie hesitated only a moment before following after her.

"Where are we going?!" She asked, urgently, arms pumping through chilly air.

Ruka felt a tight smile cut across her livid features. She couldn't decide whether to run, or scream, or chair.

"TO DRAGON!" She replied, as she both jumped in the air and picked up the pace.

 **00000**

Delirious and groggy, Dragon could scarcely comprehend the minimum crucial details. One was the scent of death. It was everywhere, thick and heavy. There was little light, so the darkness pressed in on him. Most important of all, he was walking, slowly dragging one foot in front of the other, slumping and swaying with each step as pitying and/or smug eyes bore into his back.

He could hear others chanting, calling for blood. Their voices filled with loathing so intense as to be annihilating. His ears rang from their noise as his head trembled in agony along with the rest of his body. His burning ears felt swollen, like they were stuffed with cotton He could not make out the chanting words, but there was no need. The message was clear.

Dragon wore no chains, no handcuffs, no restraints at all. With the toxin wreaking havoc on his body, they hadn't bothered to replace them.

He squinted through blurred, doubled vision, teeth grit so tightly the force could've shoved each molar deep into his jaw. His feet dragged as if through mud, his body ached as if he'd been holding the sky up. Every bone and muscle cracked and strained with each mind-numbing, bewildering step. Three times he'd collapsed, unable to go on. Three times First stomped and kicked him until the threatening obliteration of his ribs became agonizing enough for him to find the determination to stand up.

The chants grew louder. They were getting closer. Something warm and nauseating was spilling into his stomach, and he was certain he was bleeding internally under all the bruising slowly marring his torso and back.

A groan of pain escaped him, whistling out from behind clenched teeth. He staggered into a wall, hugging it for a support as he paused to gasp each and every breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, widened them inch by, and looked down the pitch dark brick hall to the light at the end of the tunnel.

Thick, gargantuan fingers yanked him back by the arm and shoved him forward. He stumbled but managed to catch his breath. Forget the public execution. They were going to kill him in this dark, dank corridor where no one would see him or hear him. But between the injuries and the toxin, he was half-certain he was dying already.

Bloodshot, sweat-bathed eyelids lifted and looked ahead at the light. A strangely bitter breeze rushed over him, carrying the echoing demands of the Mariejois people. He could hear them clearly now.

"KILL THE TRAITOR!"

"DEMON SPAWN!"

"DESTROY SHIRORYUU! PUSH HIM IN!"

Dragon sighed in agitation, narrowed his eyes, and dropped his head. Fujime shoved him forward, and he stumbled a little before resuming his slow-paced, wobbly, feet-dragging walk.

Dragon wrapped one arm around himself to hold his shattered bones inside. His mind wandered a bit, dragging up old memories. Thoughts and feelings he'd nearly forgotten, smiles seen only in dreams, warmth of ghostly hands he could no longer hold.

His oldest memory was one he'd questioned forever. It was too good to be true. He'd always believed it to be wishful thinking.

A blank-faced person, their eyes overshadowed by soft black hair cut evenly at jaw-length, frowned down at him. He couldn't speak, and he could barely move. But somehow he knew whomever he was looking at was no enemy.

She always said the same thing.

 _Thank you, Dragon. I'm free now._

Then she would reach down to him, a blue scarf in her hands, and he would wake up.

He'd been certain of two things. First, the one he saw, the one who was thanking him, was his mother. Second, it was all fake. Even when he was a child and he would sit with that scarf for hours, staring at it until his eyes burned, he was unable to believe that it was really there. He'd believed that it was a trick on the Noble's part, that there was no scarf, that he'd gone insane. When he did believe it, it was only halfway. He had theorized that the one who gave it to him, whether she was his mother or not, had sacrificed him to the Noble's so that they could run away and be free. He had been unable to hate them for it and would lay awake at night waiting for them to come for him.

But his mother was real. And dead. She had fought for him, died for him. The first and only person who'd seen what CP0 had in mind for him and the only one who'd tried to prevent it.

Now he was staring into the snake's mouth. He was too worn down and too intoxicated to make a run for it. He couldn't escape on his own. And if they reached the Void, they'd shove him in. He'd suffocate from the fall before he reached the ground. In the state he was in, there was no saving himself with rokushiki.

This was the end. It had to be. And yet, could someone really be coming to get him? Even after all this time? Even with his father working for the enemy, his only possible ally having vanished, and Ruka having forgotten all about him? Who else was there?

 _Someone is coming to get you,_ Roger had said. _So long as you live, the World Government_ will _fall_.

"Don't worry, Dragon." First said, his voice repulsively comforting. "It will all be over soon."

He felt his vision snap into focus, and his eyes narrowed, darkening with hostility.

"Are things over… with Roger?" He asked tauntingly, and felt First jerk to a stop. Dragon panted, took a deep breath, and turned halfway with both arms wrapped around his stomach to glare into First's eyes. "Because last time I checked… You were still having problems… Thanks to him…?"

First hesitated, glared back. "Roger is dead, Dragon. You'll be joining him soon enough."

"That won't… Put an end… To all your troubles." Dragon argued fiercely. "Just like with… Roger…"

"You are _not_ Roger, Dragon." First replied adamantly.

"No… I'm not…" Dragon agreed, fury bringing light in his eyes. "…I'm luckier… Because Roger never got to spit in your face's directly… And Roger never managed to kill… One of the Tenryuubi—"

Another kick, with ten-times the force of the rest, sent him flying down the hall and into the Void. He hit the ground, quickly sliding out of control. Blurred faces and eerie candle light flashed before his eyes as he skidded over the earthen floor towards…

Dragon bit back a gasp and reached his arms out, digging his nails into the ground, scraping curved ruts into the ground as he barely managed to slow the force. He caught a glimpse of the five-foot tall iron fence, stained brown with blood, and dug his fingers deep into the soil. His feet and knees went over the edge, with his lower legs sticking out over the void before he came to an abrupt stop.

He gasped heavily, looking at his shaking fingers and the red tracks carved by his bloody nails. He panted, feeling as if gravity were smothering him to death as he slowly pulled himself back onto solid ground one hand at a time and got to his feet.

He stood, knees bent and shaking, barely holding him up. He slowly raised his shaken, blood-shot eyes to give the room a slow, sweeping gaze.

The World Noble families, the adults and elders, were gathered together with a majority of their escorts, and even their slaves. Everyone was in the Void, all standing together in a dense crowd that created a near perfect ring at the edge of the circular room, save for the parting gap where the entryway resided. The Noble's faces were demonic, warped by rage and murderous desires, their hateful energies so strong Dragon felt like he'd been shoved into an iron maiden.

Different from the nobles were the escorts, who were more stone-faced than he was. The picture of professionalism like always. But the slaves…

Dragon winced at the sight of them. The slaves… Their eyes were so familiar. Like mirrors, they reflected only Dragon himself, all his pain and defiance and fear. They were eyes that were usually so dank and hopeless that they could have sucked in all surrounding light. But now… Dragon only saw himself in them.

Ruka's words came back to him, sounding so much simpler and innocent than before:

 _Are you their slave?_

A cold gust flew up from the pit, pulling Dragon's attention to it. It was huge, a good fifty feet in radius, and just as dark as he remembered. A shallow layer of light laid inside the topmost edge of the pit, barely touching the inner wall before giving way to thick shadow. The pit may as well have been a black hole for how far you could peer into it.

Surrounding the pit was the fence, brown with old blood and decorated with old chains linked through the holes. The room itself was fairly large, dirty and earthen as opposed to the rest of the spotless palace. The ceiling was high, overshadowed and barely visible, bearing stalactites.

"DRAGON!" First shouted, and Dragon whipped his head down to see the Gorosei standing together. "You can't escape! Prepare yourself!"

Dragon cleared his expression, making it blank but weary. He wanted to hold on to at least a little of his dignity. They'd already done everything they could to annihilate it along with him.

"Monkey D. Dragon!" Second declared in a cool, deeply disappointed voice.

Dragon fought back an enraged glare. That blackmailing, ungrateful lout! He was deliberately using Dragon's real name so carelessly in front of so many people.

Dragon glanced at the crowd, then blinked, astounded.

They weren't surprised. Not one of them. Not even the slaves! How? Why?

Realization dawned over his features.

They knew. All of them. All this time. Everyone here in Mariejois…

His heart sank so deeply it threatened to pull him to his weak, cracking knees.

"For the crimes of treason against the World Government," Second continued in a bold, booming voice, "And sacrilege against the sacred blood of the creators, you are sentenced to Void banishment. Rest assured, your reputation will remain intact. No one will know about this self-destructive scheme of yours."

Dragon frowned, disapproval mixing with loathing. Self-destructive…?

"WAIT!"

Dragon jerked, turning to see one slave pushing through the crowd. It was a man, middle-aged, with shaggy mop hair hanging around his head. He was slightly muscular and just barely taller than Dragon, which was probably why he'd been sold to the Celestial Dragons. For a moment Dragon stared, amazed by the man's sudden bravery—at least until he felt the horror of realization turn his blood to ice.

"STOP! YOU FOOL!" He shouted with all the energy he could muster, then flinched inwardly and fell to his knees, his throat burning and eyes watering.

The slave man clenched his fists, tucked his arms in, teeth grit against leg-quaking fear. He threw his arm up and pointed to Dragon.

"I won't let you execute him! He's a hero!" He declared, causing the Tenryuubito to mutate with fury and the slaves to shake with fear. "Saint Julian got what he deserved! As have the rest of you! After everything you've done to people and the world, just having your palace blown up and a single one of you killed is a light punishment! Besides! Dragon has done everything you've ever asked! I won't just stand here and let you—"

 _BOOM!_

Dragon flinched, eyes crinkling with grief and guilt. A single bullet had been enough to silence him, cramming into his skull between his eyes to knock his head back. The world slowed down as he fell to the floor, arms out wide as if to embrace death, like his small moment of defiance had been worth it.

Dragon curled his fingers, pressed his fists into the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to contain the explosive rage that erupted in his heart at the sound of the escort's and the noble's accumulated, smug laughter.

"Well that was interesting!" Saint Marlos announced with glee. "Who was that slave? I don't recognize him!"

"Nor do I!" Answered another noble, and soon everyone was denying ever having seen him before as they laughed away at the lifeless corpse on the floor. The slave man lay dead, his face sporting a small smile.

Dragon cringed from where he knelt on the floor. Why? It wasn't worth it! Dragon wasn't worth anyone's sacrifice! More importantly… _How_?!

Somebody screamed and Dragon whipped his head up a second time, a cold fist closing over his heart. A gasp of terror escaped him at the sight that had his eyes burning with helpless tears.

All of the slaves were rebelling. All at once they were spurred out of their blank-minded stupor of internal protection and were now hard at work attacking every escort and noble within reach. Young women, men, fishmen, children. All of them had their fingers worked into locks, pulling hair, their arms hooked around fat necks, their fists crammed deep into chests and cheeks, their nails scraping through layers of skin.

Dragon stared in astonishment and horror. He blinked and tried to stumble forward through his pain and intoxication to stop them. He had to stop them, he had to, he had to. They didn't know what they were doing, they'd be killed. They were just going to die with him, that was pointless and cruel and—

He hit the ground, unable get his numb, burning body to work right. His cheek pressed into the floor as his eyes flitted, desperately trying to meet one pair of eyes. To calm them, to save them. He dragged one hand over the ground, reaching out desperately. How could he let this happen?

"Stop…!" He groaned, before his hand fell to the ground.

The first rounds of bullet came like lightning, silencing the slaves by the dozen. Grunts and screams of horror erupted from the slaves, who fell like strangled doves with their bodies almost chopped to pieces by gunfire.

Dragon looked up, crying hopelessly as anger stilled his shaking limbs. He dragged his other hand forward and slowly pushed himself to his knees. Overcome by rage the likes of which he had not felt since he'd first realized what happened to his family, he laid his shaking eyes on the genocide of slaves and raised his head.

"STOOOOOOOOOP!" He hollered, and haki burst out, sharp and cold and quick, slicing through all the weak wills of the escorts and nobles. They choked, their heads flying back as they foamed at the mouth and crumpled like trampled weeds. The few slaves that were spared death, if only temporarily, lay on the ground holding bleeding stomachs and stumps where their limbs were severed.

Dragon's knees bent, but he caught himself, and stared determinedly at the five still-standing creatures who'd withstood his great haki.

The Gorosei stood unfazed and staring icily at Dragon, their eyes reflecting a mixture of pity, fear, and fury.

Dragon panted, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. His vision blurred, tinted dark as it shook and swirled. He felt nauseous and numb. The intense pain that had plagued him was becoming less noticeable.

This was it.

"Are you happy now, Dragon?" First questioned, deep disappointment and pride causing him to look down on Dragon. "Do you see what you've done? You've led others astray and created genocide. The stench of blood in this room has grown so much stronger."

Dragon frowned, barely conscious but refusing to give in.

"What is it, boy?" Third demanded angrily. "You look like you have something to say. We're listening."

Dragon released a low sigh, too grieved and groggy to fully express how furious he was. But it didn't matter, even if he could put it to words, every breath would fall on deaf ears. They weren't worth the effort of telling them off. Mere words weren't enough to stop them.

"You… Are…" He began, and spat up a small puddle of blood. He paused in pain, feeling gravel in his throat and fire in his bones. He pushed through, determined to speak his mind here, at the end.

"You… Are…!" He panted, grit his teeth, and continued: "Daft old fools… And you'll all… Pay for this…!"

"Is that so?" Second questioned, not at all worried. "And who's going to do that?"

Dragon didn't know the answer. He was going to die. Roger had promised him someone would come for him, but he realized now that that had only been half true. The only ones who had "come for him" were now all dead or dying on the ground, just as powerless as he was. But he still believed in Roger's other promise.

"One way or another, the World Government will _fall_!" He assured them, watching as their eyes narrowed in rapid succession.

"I've had enough of this." First concluded, closing his eyes dismissively. "Fujime, push him in."

"As you wish." Fujime grinned, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived in the Void.

He took a step forward but came to an abrupt stop when:

"DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAGOOOOOOOOONNNNN!"

Dragon blinked, dazed mind going blank before restarting with new energy. Light and consciousness returned to his eyes, as his heart filled with cautious hope and disbelief. That voice…! Impossible…!

He looked up, peering through the Gorosei where they stood crowded together in front of the entrance. He looked longingly, hopefully into the dark corridor, the scream of his name still ringing in his ears like a disembodied echo. Pain and exhaustion forgotten, he held his breath and waited out the longest three seconds of his life. Then, he spotted a fist, followed by a foot clad in a dark dress shoe, and soon she was semi-visible. Rushing through the darkness with the speed of a leopard, semi-visible, fury and desperation making her expression bright and livid.

The Gorosei turned, seeing an escort, and paused in confusion long enough for her to dash past them. Dragon breathed a gasp, mouth falling open in the narrowest parting as his eyes widened, lit up with an uncharacteristically giddy emotion. Possibly joy.

"Ruka…?" He mouthed, sheer terror slowly creeping into his heart. If she was here, then…

She closed the last few spaces of distance between them in three great leaps, teeth grit as she landed solidly in front of him. Joy overpowered his fear. She was right in front of him. But she glowered, clenched her fist, and pulled her arm back before swinging it forward, knocking it into his already burned and cut cheek, twisting her wrist to grind her knuckles in. He felt the force as if it were worth tens of thousands more than that of First's punch from before. He flew back, hit the ground on his side, and shook from the pain.

"Ungh…" He groaned, bracing one arm against the ground to push him up as he trembled. He ran his tongue over one back molar, feeling it wriggle slightly, and chuckled a little.

He rolled over onto his back, smiling through the pain as he tried to push himself up onto his wrists, which were the least weak. He got halfway up before Ruka came forward and fell down onto him, sitting on his stomach as she straddled him, hands shooting out to grab him by the collar and yank his head up as she leaned down, knocking their foreheads together. Her livid eyes met his blank, wide, surprised ones.

"Did it hurt?! It better have hurt! 'Cause I've got more!" She shouted in his face, as he stared back, bewildered but amazed.

Ruka panted for a moment, and Dragon felt some small part of his mind start to worry before she smacked their foreheads together again to scream in his face once more:

"Bastard! Jerk! Moronic pessimistic asshole!" She accused, unforgiving and hating and shaking him with each insult before pulling him so close that their noses were touching. "You get it now? Did I sock you hard enough or not?!"

She paused, waiting, expectant. He blinked, realizing she was actually waiting for him to answer her, and nodded dumbly. He saw her eyes glisten and she pulled back, squeezing her eyes shut and grinding her teeth as tears and snot poured down her face. She popped her eyes at him furiously and shook him once more.

"Stupid Dragon!" She shouted, gripping his shirt tighter and unable to look at him she was crying so hard. "Did that knock some sense into you?! Geez, are those ears just for show? You don't listen! I told you! Again and again, I told you I wanted to save you! That all you had to do was ask!"

She opened her eyes to glare, leaning over him to glare down at him.

"Look at me!" She ordered, even though he was already looking. "I'm a pirate! I'm not a saint! Don't act like I'm worth sacrificing everything for! Don't… Don't be such a coward! This isn't confrontation or liberation or bravery! You're just being a coward!"

Dragon winced, knitting his brow.

"You gave up!" She accused, leaving no room for argument. "After everything they put you through! After they destroyed your family and took your dreams away? Walking away from me and coming here and letting these scumbags shove you down some hole like you're garbage! Do you want it all to be meaningless? Wake up! You are NOT a monster!"

Dragon flinched and Ruka threw her arms around him, crushing herself to him, her head on his shoulder as he stared on in shock.

"It was _them_ that attacked _you_!" She stated, unwavering as she smothered him with warmth and kindness. "They killed your mother! They triggered the power that destroyed Noah Kingdom and killed so many people! They took you and lied to your father! They didn't hesitate to eliminate and destroy whoever got in their way! And after everything that's happened, they still don't regret a thing! They don't even realize how wrong they are! They're the monsters! Just look at them!"

Dragon blinked, and looked at the Gorosei. They still stood together, confident, unyielding, lacking any care or concern over anything Ruka was saying. Their eyes were empty… Pitiless. Merciless. Cold…

"Quit lying to yourself!" She screamed, and he froze, remembering his own words from before.

 _If you're cutting yourself, you can always put down the knife._

He knit his brow, ashamed and confused as she screamed on:

"Don't you dare say that just blowing up this stupid, beautiful, ugly palace will satisfy you!" She snapped, tightening her arms around him. "YOU—ARE—STILL—ALIVE! You owe it to yourself to stay that way, to get up and fight! Running around and lying to yourself hasn't done anything but cause you more pain! Yes, it's important to be prepared to fight! But more important than fighting on your own is being brave enough to fight together with the ones who want to protect you! Now, if you want me to live, if you want to live—"

She gripped the back of his shirt and lifted her head.

"QUIT RUNNING AND FIGHT WITH ME!" She finished fiercely, sending a fresh wave of nostalgia running through him.

 _If running is no good, then how about fighting back? I'll even help you!_

Ruka quietly sniffled, her eyes brimming and shining with tears that trailed down her face as she kept her teeth grit. Dragon stared at her in awe, seeing her with new perspective. Her eyes, her kindness, her courage. Somehow she'd done it again, made him feel almost vulnerable but more elated than anything. He relaxed, barely noticing the pain of his wounds as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close and putting his chin atop her head, his eyes squeezed shut in relief.

"You're right." He said, and felt her jerk from shock in his arms. "I'm sorry. Thanks for coming."

 _"Destroy them."_

Dragon heard the words, that weren't Ruka's, like a bolt of lightning shooting through his skull. He whipped his head up in time to see Fujime appear before them in a burst of movement, his body black with armament haki and his expression lit up like an insane circus clown.

Dragon went cold, and leapt back, heels skimming the edge of the Void. Fujime was after them like a falcon, one knife in hand, eager to gut them like fish.

Dragon flinched internally when he tried to activate his own haki. It was no good… Even if he was a little more mobile than before, his body was too worn down. Using haki now was impossible for him.

"Die!" Fujime laughed gleefully as closed in on them.

"Ruka, move!" Dragon shouted, grabbing her arms to throw her to the side.

Before he could, a small portion of the roof caved in, causing stalactites to rain down on them, their sharp tips slicing through the air ominously. Dragon leaped to the side, foot skimming dirt away from the edge of the Void, stumbling back to the fence that encompassed the pit.

Something or someone landed in a heap of dust and rock just outside the fence. Too swiftly and speedily for anyone to interfere, the newcomer shot forth, slicing open the back of Fujime's knees and kicking him into the pit. He fell, laughing all the way down, the sound of his voice echoing through the darkness.

Dragon stood with his back to the fence, still holding Ruka, both of them panting at the sight where Fujime had stood just moments ago. Both of their gazes shifted to the new arrival, who stood facing the pit with a death glare that could've been permanently etched into his features.

"Flint." Dragon stated courteously in a way that didn't hide his surprise.

The rest of the dust cleared, and standing just a stone's throw behind him, her back to Flint as she faced the Gorosei with knives between her fingers like some kind of kunoichi, was another.

"Bonnie!" Ruka called out, sounding relieved. "You made it."

"You were right, Netty!" She said without taking her eyes off the five remaining enemies. "That ladder we found halfway down the corridor really did lead to another entrance! I even found Flint!"

"'Netty?'" Dragon asked, frowning distastefully.

Flint whistled, and spun his sword around in his hand. "Well I guess that's the end of that sorry loser. Which leaves…"

"The Gorosei…" Dragon looked over his shoulder.

They looked incessantly, remarkably calm, if not a little angered by Fujime's sudden and swift demise.

"It seems we've no choice but to fight them ourselves." Second pointed out.

"Indeed." Third grunted. "They've already taken out everybody else. And CP0 are still trapped within that room."

Dragon smirked at that, eliciting a glare from Third. The elder threw his fists down, stomping forward like a toddler when First threw his arm up to block him.

"No." He said, and vanished, appearing a moment later directly behind Dragon, his fist pulled back. "I'll do it!"

Dragon spun back on his feet and felt a sudden jarring pain reverberate through him. The pain was so blinding he very nearly almost fell over into the Void, barely managing to catch himself at the last moment.

Flint leapt over, using a backhanded sword thrust to block First's fist, astonishing everyone in the room.

"What is that blade?" First demanded, eyes narrowing.

Flint smirked, chuckling through a strained grunt. "Wouldn't you like to know? That's fine, I'll tell you… By shoving it down your throat!"

Flint's heels gave, grinding backwards through the dirt, causing the man himself to grunt and groan in agitation. Dragon saw it all and quietly let go of Ruka, retrieving one of the torn stalactites from the ground and throwing it like a dagger. First saw it and tilted his head to dodge it. Dragon hopped the fence and went to kick First in the stomach, but the man retreated to Dragon's great surprise.

First, along with all of the Gorosei, looked at the small group of four. Three pirates and a traitor. All warranting execution, all giving them serious trouble.

"This has turned out to be far more than the simple execution it was supposed to be." First stated, some exasperation betraying his otherwise calm tone. "You four can't seriously believe you're a challenge for us."

"Why's that?" Flint prompted tauntingly. "Are you guys the strongest in the world or something?"

"Would you like to find out, Flint Rackham?" Second challenged, and the air around the Gorosei sparked with an awful energy.

Flint raised his sword, pointing it at them in a way that said "stay."

"Hold up!" He ordered, and they did, purely out of curiosity. "Before we start any of that, there's one thing I need to know."

"We're not obligated to answer any questions." First replied curtly.

"No, but what harm will it do?" Flint asked, shrugging smugly. "If you're just going to execute us, at least tell me what it is that caused all this in the first place."

"Clarify what it is you mean." First demanded.

"Why do you want her?" Flint pointed with his free hand to Ruka. "What threat is she to you?"

The Gorosei exchanged fleeting glances of disinterest before turning to face Flint once more.

"She is no threat to us." First answered, as if this settled everything.

Flint and the rest of them were thrown by this answer, with Dragon and Flint looking remarkably angered.

"Then why'd you send him after her?" Flint pointed to Dragon, who was so focused on the Gorosei he barely noticed.

"It was, you see, a simple matter of mistaken identity." First answered, slowly and carefully in a way that was intensely degrading. "We heard a rumor a while back that shortly before he died, Gold Roger was seen on a certain island behaving like a father."

"What does that have to do with Ruka?" Dragon asked impatiently, marching over to stand shoulder to shoulder with Flint.

"Well in the middle of our search, we heard another, stranger rumor you see." First continued. "This one came from a certain slave in Mariejois, actually. She was a pitiful, blubbering creature who was always calling for her two daughters."

Ruka's and Bonnie's heads jerked up, their faces turning stark pale in the eerie light. Dragon noticed Flint tense, saw the man's gaze flit to Bonnie and back to the Gorosei. Apparently this captain had heard the same story Dragon had.

"She mentioned once that she had been visited by the man who was in fact Gold Roger's father." First answered, and Dragon inhaled sharply. "We didn't know if this was the truth, so we gathered all of the slaves who'd come from Sea Salt Village and interrogated them one after the other. Two of them, the mother herself, and another young girl who'd claimed to be friends with the mother's daughters, both spoke of a certain girl named Gold Antoinette. But we had to hurt them pretty badly to get them to say even that."

"Gold?" Dragon asked as he half-turned, directing the question at Ruka, who shook her head at him.

"It's not the same." She assured him. "It's spelled different, there's an E at the end. G-O-L-D-E. I just didn't want to share it with people because I was afraid _this_ would happen. The names sound the same, so…"

Ruka came up to stand directly behind Flint and Dragon, her fists clenched and her eyes twitching with rage.

"After some thorough investigations, we found that Roger's father had indeed been to visit Sea Salt Village." First continued. "And he had indeed been to see Antoinette's mother. So we deduced that she was the half-sister of Roger and sent Dragon to eliminate her before she could spread that evil bloodline any further."

"But?" Dragon prompted, sensing a catch. Something more…

"However, we made a grave mistake." First responded. "We realized only after we'd dispatched Dragon to eliminate her that she may very well know the location of Roger's rumored child. So we quickly changed our orders from 'kill' to 'capture.'"

"And?" Dragon asked, pressuring First, who remained stone-stiff and silent.

"And?!" He demanded with double insistence. There was something else. They needed to spill it all.

First quickly grew bored. "While you were fulfilling your duties, Dragon, we did a little more investigating. We found eye-witnesses who claimed that while Roger's father had been there, so had another. This other man took an extended stay there, while Roger's father returned home. Coincidentally, we actually have blood samples from both them and various pirates. Including Antoinette. After comparing their DNA, we found that Ruka and Roger's father aren't a match."

"So she isn't his sister." Dragon snapped. "You just presumed you knew everything and decided to wipe her out as insurance."

"Better safe than sorry." First replied, then peered around him to speak to Ruka. "In other words, _you_ are a nobody from a family of nobodies. You have no power and no place here. You are no threat, and you have no right to interfere in the affairs of those who dictate world peace."

That had Ruka pushing past Flint and Dragon in a mad rage. "World peace?!"

"Yes." First answered solidly, unfailing in his beliefs. "Just surrender and we'll let you leave peacefully. It isn't as if you're capable of causing any trouble. You have no powerful bloodlines, no status, no devil fruits. You can't even utilize your haki. You two-bit pirates aren't worth your bounties. Just surrender and we'll release you, it won't be any risk to us. But if you insist on standing between us and that traitor, we shall declare war on you and you'll be executed along with him."

"You done yet?" Ruka asked, sounding as if she had even less patience for these people than Dragon did. "You keep talking about bloodlines and status and power. I don't understand any of that. And I don't care! Go ahead, preach about justice all you like, I already know you're all liars! You're just inconsiderate bastards who stomp all over everything when none of it belongs to you! You wiped out Dragon's family, hunted down his clan! You protect the World Nobles, promote slavery, and spread international suffering! You only listen to what's convenient for you! You are all _scumbags_ , incapable of change! You are my _enemy_ , the culprits behind Dragon's suffering. And I am the one declaring war on you!"

The Gorosei flinched, then focused their attention squarely on Ruka, who stood fearlessly before their hateful eyes as if she had nothing to lose. Dragon didn't like that look in his enemies' eyes. She'd pushed them too far and now they were willing to stoop to whatever means necessary. So long as it meant her spirit would break.

Dragon jerked, then practically wilted where he stood. His eyes scanned the floor, eyeing the corpses of the annihilated slaves.

"What's wrong, Dragon?" First asked, earning a hateful glare from the man, a silent order to shut up. "Do you not like this sight?"

First gestured at the floor, at the blood and corpses and unconscious nobles and escorts. Ruka, Flint and Bonnie all blinked, not understanding the problem. The three of them looked to Dragon, silently questioning him. Dragon stared back, focusing on Ruka, unable to fully express just how deeply sorry he was.

"Why don't you tell them, Dragon?" First asked, and Dragon glowered back, provoked and antagonized. "Or should I?"

"Don't—" He warned, but First cut him off with a simple order.

"Pirates," He said, quietly, almost pleased. "Look at the ground."

"Don't!" Dragon urged, too slow. For the three pairs of eyes had already looked, all in opposite directions, all in different spots. Ruka herself laid her eyes on the first male slave, the first one who'd spoken, his lifeless eyes concentrated on the ceiling with his empty smile now slack upon his face.

He felt different reactions of varying levels of anguish from all three pirates. But he watched Ruka. He saw how her eyes swallowed the whole horrifying sight, saw how she inhaled too sharply through her nose with her lips glued together in a disgusted, horrified, agonized way and knew she was screaming away inside her mind. Her eyes twitched and filled with tears, silent and empty and apologetic. Dragon looked and saw, and cursed himself. _Something_ had been broken inside her. Something he would not be able to fix.

For among the ones lying dead on the ground were all of her crew mates, dressed up as slaves and escorts.

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	20. Chapter 19: Count The Cost

**There's no way to prepare you for what happens in this chapter. But don't hate me.**

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A World of Difference

Chapter Nineteen: Count the Cost

Dragon watched silently as Ruka stared, inconsolable, at her nakama's corpses littering the floor. Her wide, bright eyes twitched with a mixture of fury and anguish that was all too familiar to Dragon, who'd taken more than one innocent life.

Behind him, Dragon sensed Bonnie and Flint were sitting in similar pools of grief and loathing. But Ruka emitted the strongest waves of guilt. Her face contorted with rage—vengeful, agonizing rage—as barely a tear or two pooled in the corners of her eyes.

"You should know," Second said, mockingly, and Ruka's shoulders jerked into a square, "They were _brave_. Foolishly so. The tall one lying to the East of you, the one that's still whole, he called Dragon a hero. Said we were monsters. I'm not sure what he was trying to accomplish. But he did entertain the Tenryuubito."

Ruka grit her teeth, clenched her fists, as her shoulders started to tremble.

"It took about two seconds to annihilate them all," Second continued, stroking his beard, "They needn't have suffered. But Dragon tried to stop us with his conquerors haki. That's why everyone's unconscious you see."

Blood trailed from the corner of Ruka's mouth. She had no facial wounds. Dragon suspected it was her own doing.

"Just for the record," First interceded, and Ruka glared up at him with one dark eye from behind ragged fringe, "Your mother and friend, the ones we interrogated for information on you, are no longer in this world."

Bonnie jerked her head up to stare disbelieving at First. Ruka hardly moved at all, save for her rapid breath which came out like steam from behind her rattling teeth.

"The problem with slaves is that they usually have very short lifespans." First began explaining, and Ruka raised her head to curse him with her gaze. "The nobles overwork them and they quickly become defective. Some are sold back into auction, some die, some are executed for entertainment. Would you like to venture a guess as to who assassinated those two poor girls?"

With that, First tilted his head ever-so-slightly, unreadable gaze directed squarely at Dragon.

Dragon stared back, not understanding. Then slowly, it came to him.

It had been a few weeks before he was sent after Ruka. The weather was perfect as usual, and he'd just returned from a guard job on Sabaody Archipelago. One of the World Noble family head's called him into the slave theatre, a place he despised more than Sabaody's auction houses. He'd known before he arrived what he was going there for. His fears were confirmed the moment he reached his destination. Onstage, under a glaring spotlight, two women sat back-to-back, gagged and bound to chairs. He'd stepped on stage, spared two seconds to glance at the women and the Noble family, who were seated in the audience. Then, without thinking, he looked into the eyes of the women and shot them dead. The Noble's had gasped, disappointed, as he stalked down the steps and out the theatre. He'd given them one snappy comment, full of cursing hatred—"Don't waste my time."—and slammed the door as the family laughed, clinking wine glasses and pointing at the dead girls on stage.

Dragon pulled back to reality, withholding breath and feeling his hands go numb.

"Dragon has condemned your family to death twice now, girl." First concluded, speaking directly to Ruka, who listened with forlorn defiance in her wide eyes. "He's your enemy just as much as he is ours. Stop protecting him. He isn't worth it."

Dragon curled his fingers into fists. He looked away from Ruka, ashamed, unable to breathe or say a word. He felt Ruka tense, saw her look at him, and braced himself for a second punch or worse.

But—

"How many times has that worked?" Ruka asked in a low voice, devoid of any emotion save for a bit of hatred. "I get it. This is how you isolated Dragon. Fine. But don't expect me to fall for it. I know better."

"Dragon is a liar and a murderer." First insisted in a cold, adamant tone. "He murdered your mother—"

Ruka whirled, throwing her fists behind her. "YOU MADE HIM DO IT!"

"We didn't make him do anything." First argued. "He was free to refuse."

"LIAR!" Ruka shouted, taking a harsh step forward.

Dragon jerked forward, lashing out to grab her wrist. She didn't react beyond trying to throw him off and run forward. He couldn't guess her plan. Perhaps she wanted to cut their throats. More likely, there was no plan.

"One more chance, girl." First said, nodding politely. "Step aside. We'll kill Dragon, and set the three of you free."

" _No_." Ruka replied, shaking her head fiercely.

"Step _aside_." First ordered, reaching into his jacket pocket.

"No!" Ruka snapped, clenching her fist and trying to pull free of Dragon.

"We will kill him, that's already decided." First told her, revealing a small firearm, one that Dragon recognized with a lurch of his stomach. "You can still save yourself, your sister, and your captain. But even if you refuse and somehow escape punishment, we will still end him. You cannot stop that, two-bit, no name pirate."

"OVER MY DEAD BODY!" Ruka shouted, and Dragon winced.

"Watch how you word things." He ordered, for the second time.

"As you wish." First replied, and fired the gun.

It took less than a second. Dragon, livid at the thought of Ruka being harmed further, yanked her by the arm behind him. When he tried to activate armament haki, the pain was so excruciating that he fell to his knees, hunched over, hand cupped over his mouth as he coughed up blood. The bullet closed in on him, and he straightened the fingers of his free hand with plans of catching it.

Flint landed in front of them, feet clapping onto the ground, dirt coming up in plumes. The bullet shot forward, flying straight for his heart. Ruka and Bonnie were suspiciously calm.

He sliced the air with his sword, and the bullet split apart.

Dragon and the Gorosei were mutually astounded. They all jerked back, wide eyes unbelieving, as if having seen a miracle. An astounding, impossible miracle. Inconvenient on the Gorosei's part.

 _He cut it._ Dragon thought, his barely functioning mind put two and two together. _A seastone bullet… Impossible…_

What was that blade?

Flint brandished his sword, holding it at his side.

"Flint Rackham…" First said, tone thick with disbelief, looking from the sword to the man himself. "…How?"

Flint glowered, raised the sword to hold it over his shoulders.

"You wanna say again," He asked in a challenge, "Who's a two-bit pirate?"

They stared, unable to reply, and Flint pointed his sword at them.

"We're getting out of here." He told them. "No matter what! Prepare yourselves!"

"And how do you plan on doing that?" First asked, making it clear he had no intention of letting them pass.

Dragon knit his brow, casting a quick, cautious gaze around the room. The walls were dirt, easily broken at full strength. More of a challenge with the state he was in, but still an option. If only he could distract them. It would only take an instant—

He felt something light hit his shoulder and he looked to see a small, cone-shaped piece of rock tumbling down his cloak, towards the ground. He blinked incredulously and looked up, at the ceiling full of stalactites.

It was trembling. The stalactites shook together, raining dirt and dust down on them. Dragon shielded his face with his arms, drawing the attention of the others to the ceiling.

All at once, there was a wave of subtle but panicked shock through the room. The Gorosei took one look at them and rushed out the entrance, with thick iron doors sliding into place behind them.

Dragon glared at them as the dirt started to pour down en masse. Squinting through the pain, he grabbed Ruka and looked at Flint.

"How do we get out of here?!" Flint demanded, as Bonnie rushed up behind him to take his hand, her pink hair full of small pebble-like dirt.

Dragon threw an arm out, holding a hand out to Flint. Flint took it and Dragon uttered a quick—"Brace yourselves!"—and ran. At his current speed, he was barely able to generate enough force to trod over the bodies and barrel through the dirt walls. He reached a layer of white-rock and burst through it as well, exiting in a tumble of dirt, rock, and dust into a narrow, windowless hall.

He released Flint's hand, his ears full of the pirates' coughing and spitting. Dragon wiped dirt and sweat from his brow and looked down both ways of the hall before looking back at them.

"Now we run." He told, taking hold of Ruka's hand and taking off down the hall.

Flint and Bonnie were at his heels, their lungs now semi-clear, allowing for speech.

"Where are we going?!" Flint hissed through the darkness.

Dragon swallowed against the perfume-and-sugar air. "Outside! It's our only chance!"

"We won't survive another trip in that elevator!" Flint argued. "We can't go that way!"

"We're not taking the elevator!" Dragon told them, shooting Flint a warning glance.

"What else is there?" Bonnie asked. "Hiding in the slave barns?"

"We're not hiding!" Dragon informed them. "We're jumping!"

"Jumping?" Flint asked, eyes shifting, then popping in realization. "Off the Red Line? Are you insane? We'll never make it!"

"We've got to try!" Ruka said, speaking up for the first time since they'd left the Void. "We've no other choice! Stranger said rescuing Dragon would take some creativity!"

Dragon heard this and came to an abrupt stop, Flint slamming into his back. Flint stumbled away, holding his nose and shooting Dragon an angry look before rushing forward to grab Dragon by the shoulder and shake him furiously.

"What are you standing around for?" He demanded. "We've gotta go, come on!"

"Creativity…" He muttered, eyes shaking.

"What?" Flint asked, angry.

"Creativity…" He said, taking a look at Ruka before whirling and heading off in the opposite direction.

"Where are we going NOW?" Flint asked, clearly impatient.

"My room!" He answered, rushing down the hall in seconds with the other three barely able to keep up.

"What? WHY?!" Ruka asked, not understanding either.

"Because!" Dragon said, turning the bend as he tried to keep an eye out for enemies. "It's the most creative place in Mariejois!"

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" Flint said, more an accusation than a question.

His room was specifically designed to control his powers. Powers which they'd never seen before. Built to channel his odd energies into wiring and lighting so as to make them harmless to himself and everyone in Mariejois. And those designs had been 100% successful, otherwise this palace would be charcoal. Then there was the mirror. The one Anomaly's benefactor had used to watch him all these years. If he were right, that room was their way out of this mess.

"Just keep up!" He ordered them as they rushed down the hall.

At that moment, there was a great explosion that made the entire palace shake. The group of four, especially the weakened Dragon, stumbled and walked into walls. Their vision reverberated along with the palace, so that they were seeing double. Dragon squinted through the quaking and gazed ahead, ire burning in his eyes. If he had to guess what was causing this he had to say it was…

"No!" He gasped as the trembling came to an abrupt stop. An epic BOOM burst through the walls, nearly shattering their eardrums.

"What's happening?!" Ruka demanded, her hands clapped over her ears.

Dragon, grit his teeth and shot her a panicked look over his shoulder.

"We need to get out of here now!" He told them, desperately.

"Of course!" Flint agreed, not understanding what had changed.

Ruka's face fell, then sharpened. "What's wrong?"

Dragon raced back and grabbed her hand, then took off as quickly as his legs would carry him. Bonnie and Flint were hot on their heels, both of them directing their gazes behind them.

"They're out!" He answered.

They had seconds. Less than that, actually. Those people would waste no time in tracking them down and once they did then Dragon and his companions would be trapped like rats. He had to reach his room before that happened.

"Dragon! What do we do?" Ruka asked, sounding just as panicked as he felt.

"Move faster! And stay together!" He ordered as they rushed down the hall.

He looked around them and discerned their position. Mariejois was about three times the size of a medium-sized city. In those terms, they were about three "blocks" or so from his room. There were a number of shortcuts in the walls, hidden behind invisible doors. But he had to assume they were already being monitored. The Gorosei would have checked the Void as soon as the cave in was over. If they didn't see their bodies, and they wouldn't, they would ensure the rest of the palace was properly guarded by either escorts or, now that they were free, CP0. It was standard operating procedure that CP0 go into offensive guard positions in the case of invasion. They would already be in position. But they were aware that he knew those positions, so they would shuffle them, in order to confuse him.

Were the secret paths safe? Or were the halls safe? Where would they be hiding?

He racked his brain for the right answer, and felt a jolt of relief when it came to him.

He came to an abrupt halt, stopping directly under one of the torches lining the halls. He released Ruka's hand and went to the wall, feeling around with both hands until he felt a small screw jutting out, painted white so as to blend in. He pressed it into the wall. Stone grinded as one narrow portion shifted out of the way, revealing a narrow hall so thin there was barely room for men to stand shoulder-to-shoulder.

The others didn't need to be told. They followed in after Dragon, and Ruka's discerning eye found the closing switch in less than a second. The door flew shut behind them, and the torches came to life, lighting up one after the other as if by magic.

Dragon braced himself for the sight even before they came into view, their bodies illuminated by the torches that were previously unlit. Sure enough, standing halfway down the hall were two of his former fellow CP0 operatives, both of them men, their faces concealed by their masks.

"Hey, you led us into one of their traps!" Bonnie complained, looking stricken in the eerie light.

"There was a trap waiting for us no matter what path we took." Dragon answered, unflinching. "But in this narrow hall, they can pack only so many enemies."

"You traitor," One of them spoke up, and Dragon's eyes narrowed. "How dare you kill so many of your comrades."

"Be quiet." Dragon ordered, pushing his tattered sleeves back. "You people were never my comrades. I've always despised you. And the feeling was mutual."

"You'll be executed for this." The other CPO man threated.

"Try it." Dragon said, and attempted to use his armament haki. Pain shot through his arms like white-hot electricity and he half-collapsed against the wall amidst concerned cries from his comrades. He pried open his eyes. Barely able to breathe, bathed in sweat, and racked by pain, he knew it was no good. Accessing his haki had become impossible. But he had to fight.

"Everyone, we must defeat them if we're to get out of here." He told the three pirates, his tone pleading.

No sooner had he asked did Ruka shove past him and dash ahead, taking the initiative. He felt a twinge in his heart that urged him to stop her, but he pushed the thought away and cleared his mind.

Ruka got close to them and drop-knelt before springing into the air. She pulled a dagger from her belt and twisted it in her hand. One of the CP0 men put his arm up to shield himself, placing his free hand behind his forearm with his fingers pressed together like an arrow. Dragon recognized the stance and immediately ordered Ruka to move.

She kicked off the close-quarters walls, positioned upside down in mid-air with her limbs spread out. This was a moment sooner than her enemy had shot his hand forward, slicing through air instead of vital organs as he would've if not for quick movements. Ruka flipped, kicking the man in the back with all the force she could muster. Unfortunately, her strength wasn't enough to knock him down.

He whirled, aiming to punch her. She slowed his force by bracing it with her dagger, which shattered upon impact. He buried his fist in her throat, knocking her down the hall. She writhed in pain on the ground, both hands cupping her throat as she hacked up blood.

Dragon inhaled sharply, angered by the state they'd put her in.

Flint and Bonnie were quick to react, rushing forward without restraint. Flint had that clever blade of his, and Bonnie was weaponless.

Flint knelt, whirling and slicing through the air like a shuriken. The slicing gusts bounced off the two CP0 operatives, leaving miniscule tears in their clothes. Bonnie hopped on his back, using it as a spring board, her brightly colored nails outstretched. Both CP0 men half-turned, their shoulders joined as their eyes narrowed in unison. Dragon felt their haki spark in the air and ground his teeth at the sight of them, both fully capable and intent on killing Bonnie and Flint together.

Bonnie kicked off Flint, whirling through the air. She sliced through the winds with her nails, and Dragon caught a whiff of something sweet and stinging. It made his eyes water, curiously, and he blinked the moistness away. The other two were closer and got a stronger hit of it. Dragon watched, amazed, as their knees bent and they fell against the walls. How? They were supposed to be immune to toxins!

He blinked, amazed. Of course! He knew the scent. It had come from one of CP0's own laboratories. Bonnie must have found it before reaching the Void. They had not bothered to immunize themselves against that which only they had.

"Do it now!" Dragon shouted.

"Silence traitor!" One CP0 man snapped.

Bonnie whirled again, clawing away at her enemy's eyes. Dragon stared, astonished. That was too easy. Or had they underestimated her?

Blood splashed into the air, and the man's arms shot out. He was completely unfazed by the sudden, inexplicable loss of his sight. He knew only that he must destroy the enemy, Bonnie, as soon as he could. This was how they were all trained

Flint stood abruptly, and Bonnie jumped over the man's shoulders. Her feet clapped against the ground and she raced to Ruka's side, where she lay barely conscious on the ground.

Flint struck his sword against both walls with blinding speed, creating small sparks that flew from wall to wall. They struck the CP0 men, distracting them as small portions of their clothes burned. Flint sliced downwards, cutting one man almost in half. He fell back, now dead.

Dragon stared amazed. But he blinked and the other CP0 man disappeared. Flint, Dragon, and the girls both gasped, their eyes shifting around in desperate search of their enemy. Three pairs of eyes widened in horror, their gaze fixed behind Dragon.

Dragon turned quickly, but the action seemed to take an eternity. As soon as he was turned around, he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.

Ruka shrieked, sounding horrified: "DRAGON!"

He jerked his knees to move away, but found they were numb and useless. His small, split-second struggle only dragged him closer to the ground, and he flinched at the click of the trigger, froze at the bullet's echoing boom. His pupils shrank, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. If he died now, would they be spared?

Before he could think on it any further, a flash of sky blue flew in front of his eyes. He thought it was the actual sky he was seeing, a glimpse of life beyond life. But the echoing boom of the bullet was quickly followed by the sickening noise of flesh being ripped and shredded. Blood splattered across Dragon's face, only it was not his own.

He winced, eyes flashing up to see Flint standing before him, the left shoulder of his long blue cloak now soaked in deep red blood. It gushed like a fountain from his neck, dripping and oozing its way to the ground.

Dragon's head jerked back in terror. "Flint…?"

The girls were abnormally, frighteningly silent behind Dragon. But Flint stood tall and brave, bearing the fatal wound that would've ended Dragon instantly. Dragon did what he should've done in the first place and forced himself to his feet, staring at the sight before him in astonished disbelief.

Yes, CP0 had gotten Flint. Gotten him good. But Flint had used the same instant to shove his own sword through the other man's chest, cutting his heart in half.

The CP0 man was already dead, his last expression a look of inhuman, insane glee. Just as Fujime's had been.

Flint's hands went limp, his bloodshot eyes slipping closed. Dragon jerked, his arms coming up, and caught the barely conscious, non-breathing man in his arms, catching Flint's head on his shoulder. The blood-streaked sword slipped from the man's chest and clattered to the ground just before the second body dropped.

"Flint!" Dragon called, kneeling. Flint's eyes were opening and closing, his pupils swirling and shifting as they struggled to focus.

"B…Nee…" He muttered.

"No." Dragon said, suddenly furious at the idea of this man dying. He didn't want this. All of their crewmates were dead. Why did Flint have to die?

"FLINT!" Bonnie shouted, her rushing footsteps racing up behind Dragon. In an instant, the young woman was kneeling at Flint's side, her expression wrecked by acute heartache as tears streamed from her eyes.

"C-Cap.. Tain...!"

Dragon heard Ruka's broken hearted call and turned his head, looking away from Flint who was bleeding out on his shoulder, to see Ruka. She was trembling against the wall, one arm braced against it as her bent knees twitched. Slowly, she fought her way to her feet, putting both hands on the wall where her nails left claw marks.

"D… Dragon…" She addressed, speaking through her throat wounds. "Flint… Needs a doctor…"

Dragon couldn't bear it. He let all the anguish he felt for Ruka flood into his eyes, his face. Flint had taken the bullet in his neck. The puddle of blood on the floor was quickly growing in radius. He was still warm, but growing cooler. The chances of saving him were—

"FLINT'S NOT DEAD YET!" Ruka growled, making Dragon, her sister, and the dying man in both the former's arms flinch. "If we get him to a doctor, he'll be saved! Now where's this room of yours! Show us the way!"

Dragon grit his teeth. Her tone left no room for arguments. Against his better judgement, he nodded to her, and turned away, pretending not to notice the tears gathering in Ruka's and Flint's eyes. He was looking at Dragon, his lips moving subtly in an indecipherable message.

"Don't speak." Dragon ordered. If Ruka wasn't giving up, neither would he. He supported Flint with one arm and tore a strip of his cloak away with his free hand, tying it loosely around the man's wound. Flint's eyes bulged out at the pain, hacking up blood.

"We've got to move," He told Flint, eyes shifting to the tearful and trembling mess that was Bonnie, and ordered the latter to help him. Together, they half-lifted, half-pulled Flint to his feet, supporting him with their arms. Dragon pulled Flint's arm over his shoulders, and leaned down to grab the back of the man's knee. Bonnie put her hands on Flint's back and slid him up, onto Dragon's.

Dragon felt the weight of the man, who wasn't exactly large, as if he were holding up the sky. His weak legs and nauseous stomach screamed in protest, but he fought the pain back and got moving down the tunnel, shooting a hateful glare at the first CP0 corpse as he passed him.

Together they ran, with Bonnie behind and Ruka ahead. Ruka had taken Flint's sword, and was clasping it in her hands as she ran. It's weight was a bit much for her in her current state, and Dragon felt the overbearing time bomb that was their high chances of destruction tick and tick away.

They reached the end of the corridor after what felt like an eternity. Ruka opened the door and they all followed out as swiftly and silently as possible. Dragon looked down both ends of the unlit corridor, and spotted his ominous bedroom door. Never had he thought he would ever be happy to see it.

He rushed to it, standing aside for Ruka to open the door. They all flew in. Ruka turned the knob as she shut it to keep things silent.

Dragon laid Flint out on the old bed and went to the rucksack hanging from the bedpost. He drew it open and dug inside until he felt a handful of small hypodermic needles and drew them out, staring at them intently in the quiet darkness. He blinked, having identified the necessary vile, and rolled it between his fingers before dropping the rest back into his rucksack. He bit the lid off with his teeth and stabbed the needle into Flint's chest, hopeful and willing all that was good and graceful to save him.

"What's that going to do?" Ruka asked. Bonnie couldn't speak; she'd bitten so deeply into her hand that it was bleeding as profusely as Flint's neck.

"It should slow the bleeding," Dragon answered, trying to ignore the trepidation of his own heart, "And help him stay conscious.

They all jumped—save for Flint, who's eyes were fluttering open and shut—at the sound of the next room's door slamming open. There were boots marching over the ground, furniture being thrown, and whoever was doing it wasn't speaking a word.

"They've found us!" Ruka hissed, turning to face the door, Flint's sword raised in front of her.

Dragon left Flint's side and flew to the mirror, permanently bolted to the wall. Anomaly had said that they—Anomaly and whomever he worked for—had watched him through this since childhood. So they should see him now.

"Save him!" Dragon pleaded, barely noticing the girls' stunned eyes on him. "Save Flint! Please!"

At first nothing happened, and Dragon despaired. But then it hit him, and realization dawned on his face.

"I won't let them find you," He promised, stomach clenching, "Please save them!"

Ruka caught that last bit, reacting with terror and fury. Dragon looked at her, a silent apology gleaming in his eyes, and she opened her mouth to scream at him.

And then she was gone. No magic dust, or flashing lights, or odd symbols to it. They were there and then they were gone. All three of the pirates had inexplicably vanished, as if devoured by the air into an alternate dimension.

Dragon turned, uncomprehensive as he pressed his back to the mirror.

Who was it? Who watched them? Who had taken them?

His eyes flitted to the door and he winced. The Gorosei were waiting at the end of the hall. If they disappeared here, it would be obvious that the one who'd designed this safe room was not on their side. And they were certain to know where to find him, and Dragon's friends.

Flint could no longer fight in his state, and Ruka had to take care of her captain. It was up to him.

But how? What should he do?

A bead of sweat trailed down his brow. He gulped, released one shaking breath through his nose and stared hard at his bedroom door. Any moment now, that door would open. Whomever entered would take one look at him and know they'd won. His heavily bruised, burned, torn skin. The harsh wounds of his throat, his internal bleeding, the way even sitting here was so strenuous he was shaking as if he were caught in an earthquake. If it came to a one-on-one fight with any of them, he would lose.

Never had he lost before. He couldn't afford to lose. Not then or now. But neither could he afford to quit.

GET UP AND FIGHT BACK!

"G-Golde… Antoi… Nette…!" He gasped as he braced his hands against the wall and pushed himself up to his numb, trembling legs. He raised his head, glaring at the door. "Watch me… Fight…!"

He groaned (annoying how pitiful he sounded) and shifted onto his knees to crawl to his bed. Broken, blood-encrusted fingers dug underneath his mattress until they found a microscopic two-inch line of stitching. He dug his nails into the threading and ripped it open, slipping his hand inside to grab a handful of small, round objects.

He pulled his hand free, clutching the objects and pushed himself warily to his feet. He staggered to the door and wrapped his shaking fingers around the icy knob and turned, stepping back out into the hall.

There, First was standing with his arms crossed behind his back. He glowered down at Dragon, disappointed and fatally furious, the veins in his forehead bulging and obvious.

Dragon closed the door behind him and half-collapsed against it, panting and looking up at First.

"Here we are, then." First said with a nodding shake of his head. "A stalemate."

"I'm leaving." Dragon told him, and saw First's eyes narrow. "I won't let you touch them."

"Just quit fighting and we'll let them go." First reminded him.

"You can't expect me to trust you." Dragon said, stating this as if it were obvious.

"No, but even without those three, we still have one other hostage." First reminded grimly.

Dragon blinked groggily and sank against the door. He was about four minutes from passing out, and he really didn't want to think about their _other_ hostage. The one he could do nothing for, even if he wanted to…

"That one… Means nothing to me…" He said, and was surprised how great this lie was.

He rolled one of the small, round objects in between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it lightly.

"Catch me if you can." He challenged, and flicked the object at First.

The older man snatched it out of the air a millisecond before it would've collided with his face. Dragon jumped away from the door, taking three leaps down the hall before First moved to chase him.

"Bang…!" Dragon whispered, and the marble-sized grenade exploded in First's face.

He felt the heat of fire chase him down the hall and his knees cracked three times as he picked up speed. Fire brushed his shoulder blade, setting fire to his cloak, and he grit his teeth as he turned the bend. He reached around him, ripping off his cloak and throwing it back into the blazing corridor mere seconds before the fire died out.

That wasn't enough to kill First, or anyone else besides the Tentryuubito, who were passed out in the Void. He took a moment to hope the cave-in had been enough to kill at least a few of them and rushed down the hall, slipping into yet another hidden corridor.

As much as he wanted to rest, he knew what that would mean. He pushed himself and moved forward, stumbling down stone steps to the end of the corridor. The exit opened to the outside world, and Dragon dropped out of it, falling from the doorway to the red soil five feet below.

He groaned, a broken, crumpled heap. No time. He stretched his arms out and pushed himself up to his knees and cast a sweeping gaze at the view before him.

He was outside the town, near the slave barns. The edge of the mountain was a few hundred feet away. A grand distance in the state he was in.

He gasped, barely able to breathe. He half-collapsed, catching himself by slamming the heels of his palms against the tough red soil. Eyes wide with panic as the gasping, empty breaths increased in frequency. Hyperventilation.

No!

He clapped one hand against his chest, gripping his shirt as he coughed and hacked up blood and gunk and all sorts of unidentifiable inner mess. Dripping with sweat, one lid sunk lower than the other, blood streaming like crimson waterfalls from his wounds. He ground his teeth and fought his way back up to his feet, staring ahead with determination.

He took a deep breath and jerked his legs forward, taking off in a run. He forced his mind to focus on everything but the pain. The taste of dirt in his mouth, the whirling winds enveloping him, the glaring sunshine he never thought he'd feel again. It worked. He passed the slave barns, giving them a passing glance. There was no time to even consider taking a single one of them with him. And it was selfishness he was unlikely to forgive himself for.

He closed in on the edge. Beyond the red line, he couldn't see the horizon. It was all mist and cloud vapor. If not for the echoing noise of waves lapping against the mountain, he would've been unable to believe anything lay beyond Mariejois—

"Dragon!"

Dragon jerked to a stop, chest heaving, lungs screaming. He turned and saw someone running from the edge of town towards him, her teary eyes alit with relief.

"Ruka!" He called out, moving to go after her.

Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of him. A bead of pain tore into his chest, burrowing and exploding there. He didn't have the energy to scream, and simply fell with a grunt. He hit the ground shoulder-first, as blood pooled in his mouth before leaking out onto the ground.

Barely conscious eyes swirled in his sockets. An illuminated silhouette appeared, standing over him, pointing a gun directly at his head.

"Did you really think it would be so easy?" The silhouette asked.

It was First.

 **00000**

"DRAGON!" Ruka shrieked at the sound of the bullet, her voice drowned out by the noise. Dragon took the bullet in the center of his chest and she flinched, feeling an empty, pulsing agony that turned her blood to lightning.

Dragon slammed shoulder-first into the ground, blood spurting from his various wounds to dye the ground around him so he resembled some gory, earthbound firework. His head dropped to the ground, and her heart stuttered with panic in her chest.

She reached out, fingers splayed, as her blood-and-sweat soaked knees cricked and cracked to carry her closer to him. First had the gun pointed at his head, finger over the trigger, an infuriatingly determined look on his face as he narrowed his eyes inch by inch. Dragon's hazy stare swirled around until it zeroed in on him with a sort of blank expectance.

 _"STOOOOP!"_ She begged, tears streaming, blood gushing out, driven by her frantic heartbeat.

 _…bang…!_

The noise was distant. It reached her ears only after cutting through all other sounds. Once it was there, she could barely hear it. An echoing drumbeat against her ears. A mocking repetition of the destruction of all that she held dear.

She had lost everything. Everything.

Blood exploded from behind Dragon's ear, a crimson so deep it sucked away all other colors. The world was bleak and monochrome before her wide, empty eyes.

Dragon lay on the ground, eyes blank and staring right at her. She couldn't look away from his empty gaze. Wide, dark eyes. The eyes of the one she'd given everything—everything—to save. Dark eyes, always so brave but somber. That broken, genuine smile with its touch of sadness that pulled at her heart was now locked in a rigid frown, lips parted from unspoken words that were now permanently, eternally, silenced.

Ruka fell to her knees, her mind a scrambled mess. As if she were the one with a bullet in her brain. Tears trailed silently, one by one, from her blankly wide eyes that tried and failed repeatedly to take in the sight of dead Dragon. _Dead_ Dragon.

She had failed. Failed her captain, her crew, her sister, and herself. Failed Hestia, and Stranger, and his generous benefactor who'd been kind enough to teleport her back here. Failed Dragon.

Everything was over. Over… She had lost everything.

"Do you understand now, girl?" First's voice came, so loud and grating and full of uneasy satisfaction. "Dragon was always meant to die for us, one way or another."

Ruka's eyes twitched at that, eyebrows raising just enough. Her ears ached. Her heart was gone, punched out of her chest, gone, gone, GONE…!

She had nothing now. Nothing but—

Her head whipped up, eyes jerking, focusing on First. The newly monochrome world had turned to a staggering crimson. It bled out, dying the sky, the clouds, the mountain, and her only enemy in sight all different shades of maddening red.

She dug her heels into the soil and forced her knees up without touching the ground. Her legs went stock still—she hadn't noticed they'd been trembling—and her cloudy, dark, lightless pupils stared hard at First as the heat in her belly swelled from numb, pin-prickling anger to an explosive rage that could've burned her and the entire God-forsaken "Holy" Land to ashes.

Everything should be ashes. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The entire, beautiful, impossible, hideous world…

"Die…" She ordered. Calmly and point-blank.

First blinked, as if pricked by a needle. "Say again, girl?"

Ruka felt an odd sensation reverberating through her body. Like an earthquake in her flesh. It was painful, as if she were about to spontaneously combust. She didn't care; she wanted to. But not before…

She looked at First, focusing her shaking, wide, cursing gaze on him. Empty man. Empty, thoughtless, greedy, vile, humanoid creature.

"You make me sick." She told him, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Drop dead."

First's eyes twitched wide open, turning gray and round with agony. To her mild surprise, but intense satisfaction, he did as she said. He dropped to his knees, then collapsed to the ground, wide-eyed and seemingly soulless.

 **00000**

Dragon was still alive.

Barely.

The bullet never touched his brain, but that did not mean he felt no shock. He was physically stunned, lying in a dazed, pained anguish that was so bewildering he might have been trampled. Then again, that was what had happened in a nutshell. They had trampled on him and everything he valued, everything that was dear and important to him.

Ruka. Her after-image flashed before his eyes like a ghost, and he winced from where he lay on the ground. He saw, but could not register, so many awful happenings. Impossible things. One moment Ruka was on her knees, staring at him as if the world had ended. The next, she was ordering First to die. Miraculously, he dropped to his knees, unconscious and barely alive. Just as Dragon was.

He watched Ruka. Was all this real…? It couldn't be. He could feel her haki. It was tremendous and mind-blowing (no pun intended). It flashed out in wave after wave, an endless onslaught of razor-sharp frostiness. She was the epicenter, an undersea earthquake. Her haki was a tsunami, its range surely expanding.

It was this that finally stirred him to the surface of his deep stupor. He blinked, feeling as if he had just risen up from deep water to poke his head above the ocean. Ruka was standing, but the look in her eyes was not like her. There was no trace of the woman he knew and cared for in her eyes. She had become a mirror-image of himself. Scarred and broken and with nothing to lose.

He gasped, a fountain of blood splattering the ground in front of him. He took in deep, panting breaths, eyes wide and pale and searching around as if still stunned. For a moment he was caught in his own reeling amazement—how was he still alive? What were the odds? —when he remembered Ruka and the power she was unleashing, and his eyes swerved back to find her now with her back to a line of CP0 agents.

"N—ungh!" He tried to speak, to call out to Ruka.

She couldn't do this. He could feel it from here. The self-destructive force of this insane power of hers which had knocked out First. If it could do that, then—!

"Cease this revolt at once." One CP0—One of the older ones—ordered, pointing at Ruka. "Surrender and submit to questioning—"

Ruka whirled, eyes bright with something dark and cursing. Dragon watched as the line of five highly trained CP0 operatives collapsed like dominoes, falling to the ground, apparently lifeless.

No, no, no…! Dragon rolled onto his stomach, slid broken hands over crumbling red soil, stretched his fingers out feebly.

"Ru… Ka…!" He called. _Stop this now. Please. It's too much—!_

She turned, eyeing him. Her face showed minor signs of astonishment—twitching eyes, pressed lips—but clear signs that she saw him. She saw him bleeding out, broken, at the edge of death. She saw him smile, weak and apologetic, saw his bloody fingers that left dark ruts over the soil.

He expected her to run to him, to fall to her knees in front of him, to drown him in her tears and her heart-aching relief.

But all she did was stare…

And stare…

And stare…

Dragon grew uneasy. Something was not right. No, something was criminally amiss.

A crowd of escorts were rushing up behind her, coming out to the edge of the mountain from the city. Dragon saw them in their matching uniforms and shoes and sunglasses that made them look like clones. He had hated them, but now he pitied them. He feared for Ruka, who had lost her mind and all control with it…

"Halt!" The escort in front called out as he dashed ahead, leading the crowd to her.

Ruka turned around, planting her feet in place. Dragon saw her tense knees and rigid back and felt her power increase tenfold, shooting out from her like a bombardment of spring-loaded harpoons. She knocked the first line of escorts down and the next ran smack into a wall of air. A literal barrier.

Dragon concentrated, something which made the entire back of his head cramp and ache. He understood what was happening. The waves of haki were now so frequent forward-wise that their collective force was like a wall. It was still in waves though, and when the lines of escorts touched the edge of Ruka's haki's radius they collapsed like the rubble washed inland from the coastline after a tsunami.

Only Dragon couldn't feel their life force. Had she killed them…?

"Ru… Gaaah!" He began, and fell back into the dirt. Pushing himself up was no good, and he couldn't use haki in his state. But he had to speak to her, get her attention.

"RUUUUKA!" He screamed, and it forced so much blood up his throat. The mess dyed his teeth, leaking through the cracks, and left his chest and throat burning.

But she looked at him. She was uncaring, but expectant. She was listening.

"Ruka, you have to stop this!" He spoke in a rush, afraid to breathe should the pain overwhelm him. "You've done it, now stop!"

"Why?" She asked, speaking while maintaining her wall of haki.

Dragon grit his teeth. "This is too strenuous! This amount of haki shouldn't be possible for anyone! And you're using it continuously, unconsciously, without restraint! If you keep this up, your brain will fail!"

"So?" She asked him in a trance-like state.

Dragon flinched. He'd been afraid of this. Her crew slaughtered, Flint being shot, Dragon's apparent death. She'd been tough, given it her best, but even she couldn't withstand such stress, such emotional strain. It was that which forced conquerors haki to awaken in the first place. He should've known, should've seen the signs.

"RUKA LISTEN TO ME!" He pleaded, feeling her approaching death become more inevitable with each passing second. "YOU HAVE TO STOP! YOU'LL KILL YOURSELF!"

"That doesn't matter." She answered, cold and adamant. Dragon looked into her eyes again and saw none of her. Like he was speaking to the tortured soul of Ruka. "My mother, my friends… My captain, my crew… Everything important to me, my own life and you… They won't stop until it's all obliterated. They're the ones that need to disappear! They need to fade away! I'LL KILL THEM ALL!"

Dragon curled his fingers, scraping soil into his palm. He lay trembling on the ground.

"But that's…" He said, half in wonder, half in horror, "That's how I feel. All the time. Every day… For twenty-seven years…"

"I'll destroy them!" She promised, so self-assured that Dragon almost believed it. "I'll kill them all. Every one of them will die…"

"No." Dragon said, shaking his head and clutching the back of his bleeding skull as he got to his feet. He met her eyes and staggered, dragging his feet until he got closer to her. Remarkably, she didn't move, but she didn't look willing to stop either.

He reached out with his free hand and pulled her in for a hug. He felt her gasp in his ear, felt her trembling form go still against his body. He unclasped his hand from around his skull and wrapped her in both arms, his expression determined and struggling.

"If you do that, you'll die too." He told her reasonably, and nudged her head with his own, burying his nose in her hair. He felt her tears soak his shoulder "Please stop… Your crew… Didn't wish for this. Neither do I. Please, just stop Ruka. Please…"

It took a moment. But his urging voice won out, and she collapsed into him, unconscious. As soon as she had, her waves of haki and the wall holding back the escorts died instantaneously. The crowd stared in confusion which quickly turned to anger and they charged forward.

Dragon's eyes snapped forward. He held Ruka to him, turned, and ran. He ran to the edge of the Red Line, to the cloudy abyss lying beyond it. He heard the ripping of wind and calls for blood. He didn't pause to think about it.

"STOP HIM!" First ordered, awake again.

Dragon jumped, diving head first into the clouds.

Wind howled in his ears as he cut through the clouds, falling with such astounding speed that he couldn't help but be surprised. The stress of the fall ripped his wounds open and caused broken bones to break more.

 _Help us,_ he pleaded silently.

Then, he couldn't help it. His exhausted body overwhelmed him into a dark, dreamless sleep.

 **00000**

Dragon's head turned, his cheek pressing into a feather filled pillow. Light illuminated the darkness behind his eyelids, which quickly and anxiously flickered open. He gasped, feeling himself lying in bed and sat bolt upright.

He released empty, gasping breaths as he looked around the small room to assess his situation. He was, inexplicably, in what looked like a hospital clean room. Everything was white, anti-bacterial and spotlessly perfect. The room was a perfect cube, dimensionally speaking, and his bed was fairly large, sitting in a broad plastic bed frame. Surrounding it were a few machines which bleeped and hummed mechanically. An IV was stabbed into a vein halfway up his left arm, with his fingers, neck, stomach, and most of the rest of him wrapped in thick bandages that were, thankfully, clean. He was shirtless, wearing only pants with what felt like more bandages beneath them. There was a hospital tray positioned at the end of the bed with a glass of water and a tray holding a small bottle of vitamin supplements and a smaller bowl of fruit.

He blinked, astonished and surprised. His head felt abnormally light. He reached one hand around to run his fingers through his hair and found, to his surprise, that it was cut shortcut.

He let his hand fall. Haircuts were the least of his worries. He took another sweeping gaze around the room, and half-jumped out of his skin with relief.

Ruka was there. Seated in a small stool at his bedside, semi-conscious with her head bowed and her hair hanging in her face. She'd been treated too, from the looks of her. One arm was in a sling, and she had a single crutch with her. She was wearing very thin shorts and a tank top, exposing all of her bandages, the ones wrapped around her thigh and shoulder. Her face was beat up pretty badly too, shiny with ointment with small band-aides stuck over flesh wounds.

"Ruka…" He said, slowly and carefully. "Where are we…?"

Ruka was slow to respond. Then, as if the action was more strenuous than trying to lift boulders, she carefully raised her head and gave him a weak smile. But her eyes were red and puffy, and heavy with bruising bags beneath them.

"Hi, Dragon." She told him, then let her head drop away, her eyes shining. _"Okaerinassai."_

"Ruka…" He said, worried that perhaps he should keep silent, should the wind from his speech knock her out of her chair. But he had so many questions. "Ruka, have we been captured again?"

She shook her head wordlessly, dropping her head so her bangs half-hid shining, defeated eyes. She then looked to the front wall of the room, near the entrance, where a familiar face was seated cross-legged on the ground, waiting patiently.

"Good to see you, Dragon." Anomaly greeted formerly, sounding anything but pleased. But there was something hoarse about his voice. As if he had worried himself sick over something… Or someone.

Dragon knit his brow. "What are you doing here? I sent you away."

"True, you wouldn't accept my help." Anomaly said, complacently. "But she did. I helped her to reach you."

Dragon wasn't surprised. He had figured, somewhere in the back of his mind that she must have received some assistance from someone. There was no one else who'd taken any interest in helping him save for these two.

"Where are we?" Dragon asked again, and Anomaly frowned at him from behind the shadow of his hood.

"In a safe place." He answered, speaking up again when Dragon opened his mouth for further questions. "I'm afraid the details will have to wait until later. You have a more pressing matter to attend to. There's no more time."

"What matter is that?" Dragon asked, but forgot his question when he saw Ruka retrieve her crutch from where it leaned against her bed. She leaned on it as she stood, and more heavily as she stalked toward the door.

Dragon, worried over her catatonic-like attitude and her sudden desire for movement. He threw the blanket aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There was a slight twinge in his gut, followed by some nausea and a minor head rush. Other than that, he was surprisingly without pain.

"How long have I been out?" He asked Anomaly as Ruka opened the door.

"This way." She urged and stepped out into the hall.

Dragon knit his brow. Anomaly ducked under the doorway and slipped out, his bulking form easily able to fit through the frame. Dragon followed, barefoot, clad in bandages and weary. This couldn't be good news. It was impossible.

He frowned, worried and followed them. The halls were narrow, dark, and somewhat familiar. There was a smell in the air, like chemicals and medicine. Were they in a hospital? Why was the lighting so poor?

"Ruka, what's going on?" He pressured, not liking the look of things.

"In here." Anomaly told him, polite and careful.

They'd reached a door. It hadn't been more than two minutes walking distance. Dragon stared at it, not liking the look of it.

He frowned at it, then reached forward and turned the handle. The door creaked open, sickeningly, and Dragon inhaled sharply at the sickening sight waiting for them inside.

The room was dark, a shadow version of the room Dragon had been in, with hospital bed and medical equipment. Only these machines were a lot more high-tech, and running at different capacities. The heart monitor sounded a slow, unsure beat.

Seated on a stool beside the bed was Bonnie, her face devoid of all emotion and streaked with tears. In the bed was…

"Flint." Dragon uttered, and moved inside to stand over the man.

Flint was pale, barely conscious, and staring off into the distance. His eyes regained a little of their lost light and flickered, perhaps unconsciously, to Dragon.

"Why aren't you wearing a mask?" Dragon asked, though he already knew the answer.

Bonnie choked on a sob, her back curling with grief at Flint's side. Flint squeezed her hand lightly, apparently lacking in strength.

Flint smiled up at Dragon, and began to croak out barely audible words:

"They said…I've got… Five minutes…!" He said, and Dragon winced. "It was actually meant to be sooner… But I had something to say to you, so I was holding out…"

"For how long?" Dragon asked, fighting back a wave of nausea. Where was Ruka? Was she still standing in the hall, afraid to come inside?

"About… Four days…" Flint answered, gulping so the thick bandages around his throat moved. "Took all the strength… I had in me…"

"What did you want to say to me?" Dragon asked, uncomprehending. Ruka and Bonnie he could understand, but Dragon? Was it to tell him off?

"Don't… Surrender to them… Ever again." Flint said, shaking in his death bed. "You can fight them… Better than anyone… You've got more reason to than most… And they've already gone after…. Everyone and everything important to you… Don't give in to them…!"

Dragon squeezed his eyes shut, opening them as tears started to gather and spill over.

"I'm sorry…" He said, knowing the words were pointless. They fixed nothing. "This is my fault. If I had trusted Ruka sooner, then none of you would've—"

Dragon flinched, squaring his shoulders as he dropped his head and let the tears come. All of them. They'd all died for him. It was his fault.

"No… Their fault." Flint insisted, and Dragon raised his head, opening his eyes. "It was them… Always them… So don't… Be afraid of them…"

Dragon dried his eyes on the back of his sleeve and nodded firmly, letting Flint see his determination.

Flint smiled weakly and raised his chin. "C'mere… Ruka…!"

Ruka ran inside, at Flint's side in seconds. What about her crutch? Perhaps the pain in her thigh no longer mattered to her.

She knelt by his bedside, taking his free hand and looking at him with focus so intense as to be heart-wrenching.

"I… Lied to you." Flint said, a single tear falling from his eye. Ruka stared back at him in questioning confusion. "Before… When I said your lies… Meant I didn't trust you anymore… It was a lie. I've always trusted you… From the moment I met you… Always… And even though… You're different now… I still do. Don't blame yourself for what happened… To us… This fight of yours… Won't allow for weakness. Keep it up… Keep going no matter what… And leave the others to me… I'll look after them… And wait for you…"

Ruka nodded, then grit her teeth as the tears came.

"One last thing…" Flint choked out, and pulled his hand away from Bonnie. Dragon and Ruka were shocked at the sight, but Bonnie remained still and lifeless.

Flint reached out and grabbed Dragon's hand. He pulled Dragon's and Ruka's hands together, cupping them in his own hands.

Ruka and Dragon looked from Flint to each other, then back again.

"Did you know…?" Flint asked, knowingly. "Ship captains… Can marry people…"

Dragon and Ruka blinked, their eyes lighting up. Their excitement calmed long enough to look at Flint trustingly, and the dying man's weak hands gripped the two together.

"From now on, you two…" He said, pausing to cough. "United. Together. Until death do you part—"

He broke off, and Dragon's heart sank as the man's hands slipped from theirs and hit the bed. The heart monitor broke into a drawn-out beep, showing a straight line.

Bonnie screamed and threw herself over Flint's body, her wails and weeping the anguished, heartbroken cries of someone who was all alone in the world. Her sister beside her fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands as she wept and sobbed openly.

Dragon cried, unable to control his own agony. He wanted to reach out to Ruka, to comfort her. But not now. Not in front of Bonnie. Not when he had robbed her of the very thing he had fought to protect.

Dragon felt a hand drop onto his shoulder and turned to see Anomaly standing there. The man nodded out into the hall. Dragon opened his mouth to argue, but quickly closed it. There was nothing he could do here. His very presence would just intensify their pain.

He followed Anomaly back out into hall, let the man close the door behind him.

"It isn't your fault, Dragon."

Dragon flinched, temporarily shaken out of his grief. He knew that voice.

"They fought to protect you. More than I ever could. They have my gratitude for that. And for so much more…"

Dragon spun around to face the end of the hall. The source of the voice was a familiar old-geezer whose face he knew well. So well. After all, this man had saved his life more times than he could count.

Dragon's mouth fell open, breathing out the old name.

"Vegapunk…!"


	21. Chapter 20: Step Zero

**Alright time for another chapter! Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed, it makes my day every time! I'll be calling in to schedule a doctor's appointment soon, so wish me luck and pray for me if you will. I might not have much time for writing, so don't expect these weekly updates to become a habit, but I'll try to peck out my daily 300 (300 words, per day, per project). But yes I was told by my doctor to be more active and exercise more, and try to avoid sitting more than two hours a day. So writing is difficult!**

 **Please enjoy the chapter. Once more, I don't own One Piece (it belongs to the wonderful Odachi).**

 **00000**

A World of Difference

Chapter 20: Step Zero

Dragon stared, wide-eyed and deeply stunned, his eyes still moist from the tears shed for Flint. The dank, dark corridor stank of medicine and chemicals, and now he knew why.

Vegapunk stood before him, an old man with his arms crossed behind his back. His eyes were shaking, and there was a slight tremor in his shoulders. He was shorter than Dragon now. Dragon, who had looked up to him as a child, believing him to be the most intelligent and kind person he knew.

He could still remember their many sessions, both here and in Mariejois. More times than he could count, Dragon had been dropped on Vegapunk's doorstep, or Vegapunk summoned to the palace in the Holy Land. Dragon was their rising star, the Gorosei had said. The Celestial Dragon's value his gifts, they said. Fix him quickly, they said.

He had. Each and every wound, illness or ailment Dragon had ever suffered had been taken care of by Vegapunk, or Punk as he'd called him as a child. Broken arms, ruptured organs, extreme blood loss, and more. No matter what the problem was, Punk had always gotten him fixed in a matter of hours, or days at the most. If their sessions were in one of his labs, then Punk would call the Gorosei. He'd lie, saying Dragon needed more recuperation or the treatment would fail. Thanks to that, Dragon had been allowed a little reprieve from the endless torture.

His time spent with Vegapunk, during which he usually rested off seriously life-threatening injuries while being allowed to read or play games or even help Vegapunk with his research, often pointing out things the older man had missed. If he did that at Mariejois to anyone it would've resulted in a beating and being locked in a closet for days without food. But Punk had been glad for Dragon's help, calling him a brilliant boy and asking him for more information.

It had been a few years now since Dragon had suffered any major injuries, a result of Dragon's experience and improvement. The need for checkups had come to an end when Dragon turned fourteen. So this was their first meeting in… Thirteen years.

He had always wanted to reunite with Punk again. Just in case his time ran out. Outside of Sazu, this man had been the closest thing he'd had to a friend.

Now Vega was standing before him, his expression dark as if awaiting a death sentence. His eyes were cold, as if bracing themselves for a storm. His confidence and kindness and warm expression were gone. For the first time since Dragon had met him, he resembled an old man.

Dragon went through his broken-film-esque memories of the man. He owed this man his life. And yet...

This was Anomaly's benefactor. He was the one to design the radar that led CP0 to Dragon's mother, Hestia. Hestia who was sick and pregnant and unable to defend herself. CP0 murdered her, took Dragon, shoved Garp into a life of isolation and mourning.

It was his fault…

Dragon snapped, launching forward with bandaged hands that burned to strangle the old geezer. Anomaly moved to stop him, but Vegapunk shot him a halting look, and Dragon grabbed the old man by his collar, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the wall.

"You!" He shouted, unable to believe the sight. "How could you?! You killed her!"

"I-I'm s-sorry, Drag—" He choked, something low gurgling in his throat.

"Dragon, please!" Anomaly pleaded, leaning forward, his knees bent and his fists clenched. "He meant you no harm! I told you before, he only wanted to protect! He didn't know who he was leading them to!"

"BE QUIET!" Dragon ordered, not taking his eyes off Vegapunk, whose hands were weakly clutching at Dragon's.

"Please!" Anomaly urged, shaking with the urge to move and stop him. "He treated your injuries! You were on the verge of death when he teleported you here, so was Ruka. She'd overused her haki and had lost too much blood. He saved you both. He kept Flint alive by using very rare medicines and extensive treatment, using resources that aren't easily replaceable. He wanted Flint to be able to give you his message!"

Dragon wasn't listening. Emotional and anxious and grieved with the weight of Ruka's whole crew now dead from rescuing him, he was not swayed. He was watching Vegapunk's eyes roll lifelessly back in his head, was listening to the sound of him choking in Dragon's strangling hands. Somewhere in Dragon's heart of hearts, he enjoyed it. Vengeance for his family. For Ruka's family. There were alarm bells going off in his head, but he barely heard them.

"Dragon, please." Anomaly begged, not moving. "He was a friend to your parents. He would never have betrayed them on purpose. He didn't know…"

Dragon jerked at that, the image of his father's tortured expression flashing before his mind's eye. That desperately, heart-wrenching, broken look that said everything he'd ever hoped for had come true in the worst ways. His hands fell away, his arms falling limply at his sides, all the fight drained from him. Vegapunk hit the ground, and Dragon fell to his knees, all the fight in him having vanished like smoke in the wind.

Vegapunk massaged his throat, choking as he did. Anomaly was at his side, bulking form curled and leaning over Vegapunk, who put one hand on his friend's arm as he coughed up a lung. He then gave Dragon a hard look.

"I am sorry, Dragon." He said, earnest and regretful. "I did wish to steal you from Mariejois. I plotted it out so many times, even when I knew it was no good. They would've known it was me, and then who would heal you when they beat you or sent you out to fight another death match? I would've tried to help you anyway, if it were just my own life on the line. But they would've massacred my home country, which they know is dear to me, if I ever betrayed them."

Dragon was staring at the ground with dead eyes. He heard the words, understood their weight, knew he couldn't blame this man. Vegapunk had tried and failed to protect everything, at great cost. Dragon couldn't blame him, and he wilted at this realization.

The only ones he could really blame were the Gorosei, CP0, and the Tenryuubito.

"Why didn't you save Flint?" He asked, feeling something of a dishonest pull in his heart.

"I tried, Dragon, I tried." Vegapunk promised, leaning forward where he sat. "But his wound was too severe. He was strong, and lucky, to hold out for as long as he did. I told him it would be less painful if he went quickly, but he was so desperate to speak to you that he begged me to extend his life as long as I could. I agreed."

Dragon let this news sink in, reflecting on Flint's last words to him.

 _It was them. All them._

He gave something of a broken nod, unable to rise.

"Thank you for treating our injuries." Dragon said half-heartedly.

Vegapunk nodded. "Of course. Please forgive me. I wanted to stop the Rackham Pirates, but I knew of no other way to save you. The pit is well constructed. It blocks any sort of interference or signal. I couldn't teleport you if you were thrown inside."

Dragon knit his brow, recalling some of their technical difficulties and came to a sudden realization.

"The Red Transponder Snails…" Dragon uttered, barely able to voice his thoughts, "The lights going out at convenient moments… Was that you?"

"Yes." Vegapunk answered, looking at Anomaly. "My friend here has a device on him that can cause technical malfunctions and create interference. He stayed close to you and Ruka, though never too close. You would've spotted him."

Dragon nodded, having no choice but to agree. It was the truth.

"I was trying to hide you from them." He explained. "There are cameras all over the world, through which they spy on unsuspecting people. And the transponder snail they gave you had a listening device inside. They've been using it to eavesdrop on you, to ensure you never spared your target or plotted with traitors."

Dragon accepted this easily. Of course they were spying on him. And had Vegapunk not interfered, they would've known of his plan to get Ruka to safety and sent operatives after her once they were separated. Gratitude forced his head up, and he blinked emotionlessly at him.

"Thank you." He said.

"You are welcome."

"Why did you go to so much trouble if they have collateral against you?" Dragon asked, out of curiosity.

Vegapunk looked pained, as if Dragon suspecting him of seeking to gain something was insulting.

"I wanted to help you, to make up for dragging you into such a mess." He expressed, sounding sincere. "I swear I never meant harm to come to anyone. I only…"

He trailed off, hesitating, then regaining his voice.

"You are not the only one who was forced into serving the World Government." He said, surprising Dragon if only slightly. "I too was captured. They wanted me to use their talents to support them, to give them strength. Each day I pour my effort into creating what they request of me. There is plenty of contempt in my heart from it. But I am also grateful, as it has allowed me to expand my knowledge and help me to reach a different goal. The goal of saving my people from freezing to death… But thanks to my negligence, Hestia was destroyed, and so was an entire different nation. I have never forgiven myself for it…

"But guilt alone didn't feel good enough to atone for anything," He continued, his eyes looking rather empty, "I knew only that I wanted to help you even if it cost me my life. I tried to be careful. My people were innocent in all this. So I did what I could to support you from the shadows, with help from my friend here. But I decided if ever you showed signs of being led astray from the World Government, then I would give my all to supporting you. I was hopeful when they sent you after Ruka because I thought she was a D, and they're always influential. I told my friend to approach you as soon as he had reason to believe that you were acknowledging your heart and leaving them behind. I hadn't meant for you to meet with Garp, but maybe it's for the best. Garp… He has wanted to see you for a very long time…"

"I doubt that." Dragon shut his eyes, unaccepting, and feeling just a tad petty. "You didn't see his face when he laid eyes on me. Like he was going to be sick."

"It is not every day one learns their only son, only child, who was supposed to have died as an infant, has in fact been alive for twenty-seven years and is stalking around in clothes that don't look respectable, eavesdropping and attacking marines." Vegapunk reasoned out.

Dragon whipped his head up. "They attacked me first."

"That isn't how he saw it."

"Then he's an idiot. But I already knew that."

"Please don't blame him." Vegapunk pleaded, sighing and dropping his head into one palm. "He is a good man. One of the best. Even Hestia, who was cold and unfeeling the majority of her life, turned bright and warm in his presence."

Dragon hesitated, then look him in the eye. "Tell me about her."

Vegapunk looked somewhat startled, then began: "She was not a good woman. Not at first. She threw whole families to the wolves without a second thought. She never cared for anything before Garp. He was able to get inside her head, and that made her think. It made her appreciate things around her."

"Why was she so incompatible with me?" Dragon asked. "Is it true? Did I weaken her?"

"… Yes." Vegapunk answered. "But only slightly. The energy flowing through you was toxic to her, but she would've been able to withstand it if not for the stress."

"Stress?" Dragon asked, confused.

"You opened her eyes, Dragon." Vegapunk explained. "When she felt you stirring inside her, helpless, she realized what she had taken from so many people. She knew, and it drove her mad with grief, and she knew she couldn't surrender you to anyone. Even if it meant death."

Dragon blinked, understanding. An appreciation for human life was a high risk, if you allowed it to be. His appreciation and admiration for Ruka had driven a crew of four-dozen men to their deaths. It would be a miracle if she ever forgave him.

"She was my friend, Dragon." He told him, mournful. "I do not think she returned the friendship, but I have never forgiven them for what they did to her. Or to you. I did my best to watch over you in her place. I am ashamed to say I failed miserably."

"That doesn't matter anymore." Dragon shook his head, uncaring. "When I was in Mariejois, awaiting a death sentence, First of the Gorosei told me I was different, with bizarre brain activity and bodily energy that connects me to Uranus, the ancient weapon. That I was its pilot and I alone control it. Is that true?"

Vegapunk hesitated, then lowered his in seriousness. "Yes… I don't know how. Hestia actually suspected you were different the moment she realized she'd conceived. She could feel something… And she started having these dreams, nightmares, of creatures in the sky that could control the weather. Dragons, actually. That's why she named you that."

"Is it an actual dragon?" Dragon asked, knitting his brow. "Where is it? How am I to control it?"

"I don't know, I told you they were dreams." Vegapunk answered. "I tried not to take them to seriously. But Hestia wouldn't let them go. She was certain you were special, and she was afraid. That they would want you, come after you, take you. She couldn't shield you properly in her weakened state. I told her to run, to leave your father and raise you alone in a safe place. But she couldn't do it. She didn't have it in her to betray his trust. He was the only one who had ever treated her as a person, not a tool or a danger or a monster. She adored him for it. She felt she didn't deserve it, but she wanted you to have everything that she didn't. She was so grateful when they told her she could be free if she had you. She was grateful to you, Dragon."

Dragon felt something warm his heart, the familiar old clear-water-washing-away-anguish feeling that he'd gotten from hearing of his mother before.

"She was so certain, so frightened." He said. "I ran tests, to check, and I realized it really was true. You were special. I told her to go, to hide herself and not return to the Gorosei. It was just a day and a half later when the peculiarities started. I was a fool not to put two and two together. I was idiotic and ended up betraying to her to them. Unintentional but that's no excuse."

"What's done is done." Dragon decided, tired of hearing the old man sound so self-deprecating. "Just tell me, if you were able to track me, they can too can't they?"

"Yes, but not while you're here." Vegapunk assured him. "My laboratory is made of seastone. Anything related to the sea cancels out the signal."

"Just like with devil fruits." Dragon said with a sigh. Just what was he, really?

"Speaking of devil fruits, it's very important you never eat one." Vegapunk warned him gravely. "I've no idea what would happen. You might gain new powers, but you might also burst apart. That energy running through your body is exactly the same as a devil fruits."

"But I can swim." Dragon argued.

"A fact which baffles me."

Dragon pinched his nose bridge, ran his hand up his face, combing fingers through hair.

"I know." Vegapunk told him. "It's all very confusing."

"They'll hunt me. They'll never stop hunting me." Dragon said with grim confidence. "I know they won't. I have no choice but to fight."

"We always have a choice." Vegapunk said, adamant. "If it is your wish to run form here and move on from this fight, I can help. I've been working on something since you got here. A means of concealing you from their tracking. You, Ruka, and Bonnie may run far from here and live peacefully in some quiet place, if that's what you want. If you're too tired. If you don't want to lose anyone else. I've been monitoring the Gorosei. They threatened her. They blame her for your escape. The World Nobles are serious. They have already put unreasonably high prices on your heads. If you are both caught, it could very well drive the World Government into debt. And they don't care. That's how bad they want you Dragon, and her as well. You are now the most wanted people in the world."

He smiled at that. The most wanted people in the world…? And yet the only ones who wanted Dragon and Ruka around could be counted off on Dragon's fingers.

"They will kill you both if they get the chance." Vegapunk warned. "Ruka's crew accomplished their goal. You are free at last. You could walk away now and it would not be in vain. No one would blame you. It would be a great relief to me as well, to see you living outside all this madness."

"But…?" Dragon prompted, knowing full well what the alternatives are.

Vegapunk waited, then breathed, shakily. "If you walk away now… You will not be posing any threat to them at all, which is what they fear. You were raised in Mariejois. A former member of CP0. You have knowledge of their secrets and covert operations. You know so much and they told you. If you cause trouble, it is their own fault. It will cause strife within Mariejois which will upset the power balance and throw them into conflict. You know how they think and operate. You are the world's best chance. If you give up now, whatever hope we have of a world where they do not do as they please is gone, possibly forever."

"What should I do, then?" Dragon asked, feeling obligated.

"What do you want to do?" Vegapunk asked.

Dagon knit his brow, focused his eyes on the ground.

"My whole life, there was only one thing I have ever wanted to do." He said, reflectively. "It was the only thought which kept me going for years. I wanted to see someone, anyone, oppose them. I wanted to see them fall, see them be shoved down as low as they had thrown me. I wanted to see them trampled and broken and regretful. I wanted it more than anything. But now…"

Could he vanish with Ruka? As he had wanted to before going to Mariejois to destroy the place?

He could picture it. Some place warm, with grass and sunshine and blue sky. The two of them and Bonnie living out the rest of their lives someplace where the insanity of the World Government couldn't touch them. Taking their lives and appreciating small things like freedom for the rest of their lives.

But… He knew he couldn't do that. Not with Flint and Hestia and the whole crew having died for him. He could never put it behind him if he didn't make their sacrifices worth it.

"Would you still help me?" He asked, curiously, longingly.

Vegapunk nodded firmly. "Whatever you decide, we will help you. Wherever you go or what you do, we will be on your side."

"That's a bold promise." Dragon said with a shake of his head. "What if I decide this world is no good? What if I want to see it destroyed?"

Vegapunk smiled, laughing through his nose, chuckling, his eyes sad.

"Oh Dragon," He said, fondly, sadly. "If you decide to destroy this world, there is nothing on this planet that can stop you. But I believe that is precisely why Uranus chose you. Because you won't."

 **00000**

Dragon sat alone in the dark hall for hours, his knees bent, his arms draped over them, his eyes blank as he stayed locked within his mind, thinking.

Vegapunk and Anomaly had left him there. There were preparations to be made, they'd said. New dangers on the horizon. Again, Dragon could make it all irrelevant in an instant, but he wouldn't.

He hated how they knew him so well.

Dragon leaned against the wall, sighing, running his fingers through his hair. It was shorter now, and came up in spikes when he pulled his hands away. It was surprisingly clean and he didn't want to consider why.

He let his head drop. Flint's image as he lay dying was stuck in his head. As was his final action, and words. Dragon and Ruka were now married. They had nothing and nowhere to go. And yet they had choices before them. Choices he was both eager and wary to make.

His father was out there, somewhere. Confused, hurt, unable to understand where Dragon was or what he was doing or why. If he heard that Dragon was fighting the World Government, he would be in for a heart-stopping shock.

Had someone told him? Had they explained? Or was he still in the dark?

Dragon couldn't help him. He couldn't, he knew that. Not without exposing them all and risking their lives.

He heard a door open and looked up to see Ruka exiting Flint's room. She didn't look at him, didn't make a sound, just shut the door and walked off into the darkness of the opposite hall.

Dragon didn't like the sight of her blank face, her mouth pressed together emotionlessly, her hair hiding her eyes.

He braced his hand against the wall and pushed himself up, following her. She traversed the dark, dank halls without any sign or signal that she heard or cared he was there. He followed her trudging, heart-broken form through the halls until they reached a massive door, barred and bolted shut. She turned an iron wheel in the center, and all the secure locks came undone. It swung open, revealing a balcony overlooking gray sky, black sea, and a crescent-shaped beach of jagged, moss-covered rocks.

Ruka went to the balcony rail, crossing her arms over it, and laying her head down.

Dragon, overwhelmed and concerned, stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He leaned against it, afraid of getting too close to her, for fear that she would lash out or die or burst into tears. Or all three.

"Ruka…" He began, and wanted to apologize. To kneel and beg forgiveness. To leave her be and walk away. To hold and console her. So many things. "Ruka, I'm going to fight them."

He watched her shoulders jerk a fraction of an inch, then settle. She hardly cared what he did now, he supposed.

"I'm going to fight them, with Vega and Anomaly." He continued, curling his fingers into fists at his sides. "I'm going to cause them… As much grief and trouble and heartache as I possibly can. I'm going to tear down what they've built atop so many betrayals and genocides. I need to. I want to change this world, Ruka."

She gave no sign that he was there, or that she cared what he had to say. But still he continued.

"Ruka… What I said before… When we were in Sabaody." He said, recalling the Ferris wheel. "I… I was lying. When I said I wanted precautions and distance from you. I… Don't want you out of my sight, ever again. I am grateful for what Flint did, at the end."

She flinched, violently, and wrapped one arm over her head.

"Ruka I… I do not want to lose you." He admitted, though it was hard to admit it. "Maybe that's unreasonable. Maybe you don't want to fight anymore. Maybe it's too hard, with them gone. I cannot guarantee or reassure you that you won't lose anyone again. If you want, Vegapunk can hide you. He can hide you, and I won't come near you."

At last, Ruka raised her head, turning slightly so one dark eye, overshadowed from her hair, looked at him.

"But regardless of what you do, I am going to fight them." He promised, determined. "I cannot, will not, surrender to them. I must fight. My mother, Flint, your crew. Our childhoods. There is no getting any of that back. But if, by fighting them, I can give to another everything, or even a little, of what we didn't have the privilege to experience, then it'll be worth it."

Ruka raised her head, her thin, pale form turning to him. He couldn't see her eyes. He half-turned, putting one hand on the door.

"I am going Ruka." He said, feeling a strong pull that made moving away from her difficult. "I am grateful. Thank you for freeing me. Good—"

And she slammed into him. He gasped, feeling her crush herself to him, pressing her wet eyes into his shirt, wrapping her arms so tight around him that he could hardly breathe. He felt her shaking, her fingers claw at him, felt her knees weaken and he knelt so she wouldn't have to strain herself.

Then she opened her mouth and screamed horrible, gut-wrenching screams of grief and loathing and agony into his heart. She sobbed, her tears soaking his shirt before the rain came down, bombarding them as if to match her grief. He felt blood on his back and knew her clawing fingers had torn skin. He didn't care. He held her and let her cry and wouldn't look at her face, knowing how proud she was, how much she hated herself at the moment.

Lightning burst across the sky, and he looked up at it, openly wondering for the first time if it was his doing or the act of God.

When the rain had finished, Ruka let go of him. She stood up, went inside and disappeared down the dark hall. Dragon heard a door slam shut but didn't move.

"Goodbye." He finished, and dropped his head onto his knees.

 **00000**

Several weeks passed. Bonnie and Ruka stayed locked in two separate rooms, side-by-side, as they grieved. Other than Anomaly, who came and went to bring them meals and deliver news back to Dragon of their respective states, no one saw them. Vegapunk had offered to turn on the surveillance footage from their rooms, but Dragon refused. He wanted to give them privacy.

Meanwhile, Dragon prepared to venture out into the world. He was given supplies from Vegapunk, which he dutifully maintained and kept packed and ready. He was waiting for Vegapunk to finish his device, or whatever it was that would conceal Dragon from the Gorosei's tracking.

As he waited, he read the news coo. Anomaly brought him a new one every day. Dragon scanned the paper for any news of what he had done in Mariejois. Beyond a notice of Saint Julian's "death at sea" there was no mention of any of the chaos. Dragon found his and Ruka's wanted posters though, along with Flint and Bonnie's. Apparently they were unaware that Flint had died just four days after the incident. His ashes sat in an urn the color of the sea, which remained in Bonnie's room.

Dragon searched the news for any mention of his father, but found nothing. He didn't know if this meant that Garp had already been dealt with in a way that resembled an "accident" or if he were being quiet. The thought of the man having learned the truth and remaining on their side infuriated him for reasons he didn't care to ponder.

Another activity which occupied Dragon's time was rehabilitation. Though his injuries had healed, it was a rush job which put stress on his body. Vegapunk had ordered him to rest the first week, but after that it was back to the training rooms.

He worried for Ruka. Not just because of her grief but because of her power. The haki she'd displayed at Mariejois—if she used it recklessly, it could kill her. But if she channeled it well and strengthened her mind, then it would protect her. He wrote notes in a journal on haki control and slipped it under her door. But when he went to check on her at the end of each day, he'd find it in the same spot, the pages undisturbed. Still he kept it up. He wanted to bring Ruka back to life.

At one point, some weeks into Dragon's rehab, Bonnie left her room and went into Ruka's. He saw her as she passed, and the look of contempt she gave him was bone chilling. He said nothing, and wouldn't allow himself to look guilty. He didn't know why, but he felt as if guilt would be an insult to the Rackham pirates.

Bonnie stayed with Ruka, and took over the role of bringing in food. At one point she roused the other girl awake. Dragon never saw her, but he could tell from the wet footsteps in the corridor that she was showering, and a clean smell had replaced the one of dirt and blood and rot that had previously leaked from the room.

At one point, he couldn't help it. He needed to see her. He snuck in at night, just to get a glimpse at her, and found her asleep with her head in Bonnie's lap. The younger girl glowered at him, her eyes saying Get Out.

He did. More importantly, he didn't attempt another visit.

"She hates me." He told Vegapunk one day.

"Give Ruka some time." Vegapunk said with a touch of comfort. "It's difficult to lose all that one knows in a matter of minutes."

"Not Ruka. Bonnie." He corrected.

Vegapunk didn't respond at first. His expression said it all though, even before he spoke:

"Yes. Yes she does."

The anniversary of Roger's execution came and passed. Around the world, peaceful countries celebrated. The ones torn apart by the pirate era, cursed Roger to the deepest pits of hell. Most didn't care. But Dragon wondered about Roger, and he questioned whether or not their meeting in Mariejois had been real or not.

At last, Vegapunk was done. He called Dragon into one of the chemical labs, and held out to him the solution to the problem of the Gorosei's tracking.

It was a bowl of crimson metallic paint.

Dragon frowned at it. "What is this?"

"It is how we will hide you." Vegapunk replied with confidence.

He explained that the tracking system available to the Gorosei utilized magnets, because the special particles emitted by Uranus, received by Dragon, were magnetic. The paint was special, because it was made from a special formula which would not only hide the signal but help Dragon control his powers.

It sounded ridiculous, but Vegapunk wouldn't joke about this.

"We'll tattoo it on your skin." Vegapunk said. "That way, it can't be easily removed or washed off."

"In that case, put it here." Dragon pointed to his left eye, startling Vegapunk.

"Why there?" He asked.

"To remind them I see things differently now." Dragon replied.

It was three days later when the mark was complete. It trailed down the left side of his face, an interlocking chain of hollow diamonds with smaller diamonds sitting inside. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, running his fingers over it. It was true that the look in his eyes had changed.

He took a deep breath. There was no more time to be wasted. With that thought in mind, he returned to his room, retrieving the new cloak and backpack of supplies resting on his bed. Anomaly was there, sitting with his back against the wall.

"Are you going?" He asked Dragon, who was already tying the pull-strings of his cloak together at the base of his collarbone.

"Yes." Dragon slung his back pack on and pulled his hood over his face.

"May I come with you?" Anomaly asked.

"Yes." Dragon answered, stalking over and grabbing the man by the sleeve. He hauled him to his feet and looked at him, sizing him up. "I have decided to trust you. But if you give me any reason to think you are tricking, using, or betraying me, I will kill you."

"I understand." Anomaly said, but Dragon could hear the smile in his voice.

He heard the door of his room open and turned to see both Bonnie and Ruka standing there. He focused on Ruka, her hair softer and clean, having grown just past her shoulders. She wore a fur-lined vest and long blue plated skirt and boots. Flint's sword was strapped to her back. She was looking at him with a tranquil look in her eyes. He watched her raise one hand, waving her ring finger at him. A replica of his own tattoo, though much smaller, ringed the base of it.

"I thought you weren't coming?" He asked.

She shook her head and approached him. "I never said I wasn't coming."

She rested her head against his chest, eyes slipping shut. He watched, waiting.

"Besides, you're no good on your own." She said, then laughed through her nose, but it almost sounded like a whimper. "I'm sorry I was quiet for so long. I just… Needed some time."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to." He said.

She whipped her head up. "Quit that! Flint already told you it wasn't your fault."

His eyes trailed to Bonnie at that, where he was met with burning eyes and vengeful hatred. That wasn't what she believed.

"I promised I'd help you fight back." She reminded him, smiling weakly. "And we're married now. I don't want to leave your side."

He put one hand on her head, buried his nose in her hair. "Thank you."

"I'm coming, too." Bonnie stated, though her expression made it clear whom she was supporting, and whom she was against.

Dragon made a note to watch out for her.

"Then we're in this together." Anomaly summed up, and Ruka turned her head to look at him.

"Say, what's your real name?" Ruka asked, and everyone's attention turned to Anomaly. "If we're going to be friends, then I can't call you Stranger anymore."

Anomaly chuckled at her directness, a thing which made Dragon smile in contentment.

"Alright." Anomaly said with warmth. "You may call me Kuma."

 **00000**

The five Gorosei sat in a circle, the ever-present sunshine leaking through the windows. The sound of birdsong filling their ears as their faces were grim and irritated.

"There's been no sign of him anywhere." First spoke. "Vegapunk has given us several leads, but he says a clear signal is impossible. He must be hiding underwater somewhere."

"That's impossible." Second dismissed impatiently.

"Evidently not." Third countered, having been in a right foul mood since they'd lost Dragon. "He's gone off somewhere, hiding, scheming, betraying us and proud of it. And what have we done? Sat here, debating, as the Nobles scream bloody murder and breathe down our necks. Meanwhile a madman with all of our secrets in his hands is out there roaming the world, and God knows what he'll do next."

"What do you suggest?" Fourth asked, sarcastic. "We summon him out of thin air? Shall I fetch some miraculous ally with the ability to make our worst enemy appear before our eyes free of charge?"

"ENOUGH." First snapped. "Fighting amongst ourselves won't get us closer to him."

"Perhaps we shouldn't be focusing on him." Fifth suggested, and four pairs of eyes questioned his sanity. "I only meant… That perhaps we should be focusing on his allies. More specifically, that woman. This is all her fault anyway."

"That doesn't make her more than a threat than Dragon." First stated.

"No, it doesn't." Fifth said. "Dragon, on his own, is a threat. But Dragon with some woman, doing who knows what is a bigger threat."

"What are you trying to say?" First asked with a shake of his head. "That they're in a relationship? That they're going to have a child who will grow to be our greatest enemy? You're looking too far ahead! They're on their own, without protection, probably trapped in a solitary hideout somewhere with little more than the clothes on their backs! You know very well that Dragon is not heartless or stupid or distracted. Right now, his only goal is to oppose us and protect her. He will not jeopardize his mission by giving himself an extra weakness! For now, our goal is simple. Find Dragon and destroy him. Then we take the girl—"

"We trusted you before, and you were wrong." Fifth reminded, earning a severely harsh look from First. "You said Dragon wouldn't betray us. He did. If we had done the smart thing a long time ago and killed him while he couldn't defend himself, we wouldn't be facing these problems now. You insisted he could be raised as an ally. You were wrong twice. We need to get to the girl first. If we kill her, any chance we have of Dragon having a child and expanding his threatening, evil bloodline will end."

"You assume that Dragon will not come to care for anyone else." First pointed out, cold.

"He won't. I'm certain of it." Fifth insisted, desperately reaching, pleading. "She is devoted him. She burst in here to certain death and grief just to get to him. He will never forget that. He will not let her out of his sight. Even death won't do that."

First sighed. "You worry too much. They will not have a child. No matter what they feel or how safe they believe themselves to be, having a child in their position is a recipe for disaster. Starting a family would slow them down, expose them. Dragon knows this even if she doesn't. Besides, Dragon has no way of knowing if his pilot capabilities are genetic. He will not risk Ruka's life. And He hates himself too much to trust her so fully."

"Can you promise me that?" Fifth asked, concerned. "Can you promise that his bloodline ends with him? That the woman will not prove to be a greater threat? That Monkey D. Dragon will never have a child?"

First looked at Fifth long and hard. He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes dull and calm and confident and uttered a blunt one-liner that was so full of ease and patience that everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"You have my word."

 **00000**

 _ **Several Months Later**_

Garp stalked along the winding dirt path towards the small hospital where it rested on the crest of the hill. His eyes were weary, though it wasn't for the late hour or the unfair and unnatural heat. He brandished one old oil lamp in his hand, holding out in front of him as he walked so as to illuminate his path.

He came to a sudden stop and risked a passing glance over his shoulder. No one was there, of course. He had been careful. He'd taken unreasonable, out of the way routes. He laid false trails and had another man, disguised as him, shacked up in some out of the way West Blue Inn right now following a lead on Flint Rackham. Not that there were any real leads. The pirate had inexplicably vanished. No one knew where he was and those who had a clue refused to speak on the matter.

At the thought of Flint, the image of another man came to mind. Garp tried and failed yo shove the thoughts aside. He focused his attention forward and kept walking.

His son was alive. He'd seen him in West Blue some months ago, just days before the fiasco in Mariejois. He hadn't been given the details and had been expressly banned from assisting with the cleanup. Sengoku had only shared with him the barest of explanations, and only when they were alone, away from the prying eyes of HQ. He had only told him one thing, the most important detail.

They're saying it's him, Sengoku had said grimly, They're saying Dragon killed a celestial dragon, some escorts, and caused injuries to all the eldest members of the noble families.

Garp believed it. He had no choice but to believe after he'd pried the other details out of Sengoku. His longtime friend had been dead set against giving them, but Garp had threatened to hunt them down himself rather recklessly. Had said he'd be found and killed. Had pulled the parent card even, or rather been forced to play it.

He's a monster, Garp. He killed four people, at least. Even I haven't been told everything.

Not for no reason, now why'd he do that? I know you know. Tell me! Why was I told he was dead and why was he in Mariejois in the first place?

I can't say, they slapped me with a gag order. Besides, he isn't a kid, he's a criminal.

He's my kid, now out with it, Sengoku!

Reluctantly, anxiously, Sengoku laid it out for him in rough details. Rough because they were difficult to choke down. Garp learned about Hestia's past, her self-proclaimed retirement, the deal she had made, not knowing it put their child up as collateral. He learned about Uranus' existence and it's connection with Dragon which made him trackable. He also learned, worst of all, what really happened to his family. Hestia was murdered while trying to fend off the fiends who'd come for their son. Dragon saw, and although he was too young to understand, sensed that his mother was gone and began to wail. He cried and cried, and Uranus heard him, and turned Noah Kingdom into charcoal. The Gorosei decided he was too dangerous to be left alone and kept him. Kept him and tortured him and had him carry out their dirty work for twenty-seven-years.

He's a monster. Sengoku had told him when Garp had gotten up to go hunt Dragon down. He's too far gone. He isn't that baby boy anymore. He won't come back to you. You have to help us fight him.

It was just a short while later that Dragon's wanted poster was released. It circled the globe, while the details of what transpired in Mareijois, as well as Dragon's reasons for rebelling against the World Government, were omitted.

Garp was watched every moment he was in the prescence of the marines. He'd gone to great lengths to throw those unseen eyes off his trail, just for a little while. Just so he could come here.

He reached the hospital at last, raising and waving the lantern for a better view of the building. He approached the sign posted outside the small entrance and looked it over. He saw the name, the notice of remodeling that temporarily banned all patients and restricted all but a handful of staff. He'd come to the right place. It was just as he'd been told.

Garp turned and walked on, climbing into the dark building. The lights were out, the building as quiet as a cemetery. It truly was deserted, a hospital of all things.

Garp nodded to himself and went on, down the dark hallways in search of stairs. He'd been given the room number, even the names of the nurse and doctor who were close to the patient. He knew where to go, and had no time to lose. The longer he lingered, the worse the situation became.

He looked up and down the hall, still wary of followers even though he was alone. He couldn't lead anyone bad to where he was going. He just couldn't.

He didn't know where Dragon had gone, or if he'd ever see him again. All he knew was that he had been unable to help or protect or prevent any of it. He knew it was not really his fault, nor Hestia's. He knew, not so deep down, who was to blame for all of the horrible events that had occurred both before and after Dragon's birth. He knew and yet couldn't accept it, not fully. Even if, whenever Dragon remembered the World Government, all he could think was pain. Because whenever Garp thought of the World Government, all he could see or hear were his friends. The ones who had supported him through the years, who were family just as much as his dead wife and missing son.

He was a terrible parent. He didn't even deserve to call himself Dragons father after all that had happened.

But he'd been granted a second chance.

 _My unborn son bears no sin_ , he'd said, _You will protect my child._

Protect his boy as he'd failed to protect theirs. This was all that he could think to do. Dragon was in the wind, and beyond his ability to help. But this one thing he could do—keep a second child out of their hands.

Garp climbed the last of the stairs and turned into a hallway. All of them were shut, seemingly unoccupied. Save for one, whose glass window revealed a low level of candlelight.

He advanced toward it, passing a vague figure of a man asleep in a chair, and went to throw it open. The noise startled the man awake and he yelped, hopping to his feet and rushing over to block Garp's way. He shouted something, but Garp threw him off and stepped inside the room, raising the lamp to his face.

The bed was occupied by a single woman, her belly round with child. Her strawberry-blonde hair descended down her slender form in waves. A red flower stuck in her hair and a trail of freckles over her nose, and a pair of wise, accepting brown eyes. She knew what was coming and had already accepted it. She knew her son would live in safety and she would die, without him ever knowing her or her late lover.

Was she luckier or more unfortunate than Hestia? Garp couldn't tell.

"You're name is Portgaz D. Rouge, correct?" He asked, already knowing he'd found the right woman. Who else would give birth in the dark at night with no family or friends beside her?

She nodded, "Mm-hm."

Garp stepped aside, and the doctor flew in, baring a pistol and pointing it at Garp.

"Rogue, please escape!" He ordered, his hands shaking.

"It is alright," She said airily, and he looked at her in confusion, "I was told he might come. I'm sorry I didn't inform you."

"Eh? You know him? But—" He broke off, inhaling sharply as Rogue curled in on herself, both hands on her stomach. The doctor flew to her side, uttering her name.

Garp leaned against the wall, setting the lamp on a table. He watched Rogue struggle through her labor, lacking strength and letting fear flicker in and out of her eyes as she tried and tried again to get her child to safety.

When he was born, dawn had just broken over the horizon. The lamp sat on the table, having burned out in the dark. The boy wailed as he was washed and wrapped and handed to Rogue, whose smile was one of joyous relief. She had done it. She'd sat through months of marines searching every pregnancy, even the married ones, and had hidden her child months past the due date. She'd kept him safe and hidden long enough that they had given up and left, and now they had no reason to return. There would be no record of this birth. No one would wonder why the quiet woman who lived by herself on the cliffs ledge had died.

No one would know.

"If it's a girl, Anne," She spoke and Garp peered down at the child who, if things had been different, would've received a much crueler fate than Dragon's, "If it's a boy, Ace. Those names… He picked them. So his name will Gol D. Ace."

She stroked his head and kissed his cheek, her little Gol D. Ace. She nuzzled his face with hers as he wailed, his cries growing louder and louder.

"Our son," She spoke softly, her voice weaker than before, "Our little boy… Oh, Ace…"

She looked at him fondly. Suddenly, the flower in her hair fell. Her eyelids drooped and blood trailed from her mouth. Soon, the doctor and nurse were on her, fussing over. But there was no saving her. She knew, and she looked at Garp. They saw her look at him.

Her eyes said one thing, and only one.

 _Treasure_.

"I understand," He said, and he did, painfully so, "Don't worry."

She smiled at that. She braced one weak hand against her boy and waved with her fingers for Garp to come over. He did, and she used the last of her strength to hand the boy to him. He took Ace in his arms, hearing the child's wailing cries ring in his ears as Rogue went slack and half fell over the bed. The doctor caught her, calling out her name.

On the bed, in a little stain of blood, sat the flower. Sad and beautiful. Just like Hestia.

He turned, ignoring the doctor's attempts at resuscitation. There was no bringing that brave, strong, exhausted woman back from the grave.

Little Ace knew it too. He cried and fussed in his little blanket, calling and calling for mother who was already gone. Garp traveled down the hall and down the steps, out the door and down the road. He walked on, and Ace eventually grew tired. He fell asleep in Garp's arms, all warm and clean with steady, tiny heartbeats.

When they reached the cliff's ledge, Garp stopped. He looked at the empty house where Rogue had lived in hiding, where she had protected Ace and mourned Roger and prepared herself for her own demise. He stared for a moment in acknowledgment before turning and heading for the ship at port.

This wasn't for Dragon. Dragon wouldn't care for this—it undid nothing. It wasn't about Garp making himself feel better, or spiting the World Government. This was about an innocent baby who didn't deserve to die just because his dear old dead daddy was a pirate. Just like Dragon hadn't deserved what he got just because his parents worked for the marines. Then and there, Garp made a promise to Rogue and Roger. One he should've made twenty-seven-years ago to Hestia.

"Don't worry." He said, quietly as the first villagers began to stir awake in their little homes. "They won't take him. I won't let them."

 _They aren't getting this one._

He then looked at Ace, who seemed to have found some peace in sleep, and smiled at the boy.

"Hey, Ace, how'd you like to be a marine?"


	22. Chapter 21: Race

**Hi, I'm back! I'm sorry I went so long without updating! I know you guys must be tired of excuses, so I won't give you one. Still I hope you enjoy the new chapter. I wrote it off and on through the holidays, tweaking it as I went.**

 **Again I don't own One Piece.**

A World of Difference

Chapter 21: Race

 ** _Ilusia Kingdom, West Blue_**

 ** _[Three Months After The Birth Of Ace]_**

Ruka tossed two more apples into the large brown grocery sack Bonnie was hugging to her chest. Her sister poked her head over the piled-up produce, her hair pulled back and her face concealed by an oversized beige hood. She was looking at Ruka like she was crazy, buying all this when they had no money. Fruits and veggies didn't last long when you had no way to preserve them and kept having to run from spot to spot to avoid detection.

"Excuse me?" The old, wrinkly shopkeeper spoke up in a thick air of impatience. "How you gonna pay for all that, dearie?"

Ruka felt her eyebrow twitch in annoyance. For some reason, being called that ticked her off. Having to actually pay for stuff bugged her too. When she was a pirate, she was able to steal without worry. But not now. Not with her face known the world over. Not when Dragon had scolded her the last time she caused a commotion that landed them in all hot water (by which she meant they'd had to hide underwater, in a steam bath, fully clothed for a good half-hour). So it was with reluctance, and quite a bit of attitude, that she pulled the wad of Beri's from her pocket and dropped it into the shopkeeper's open hand.

The old bag immediately grinned, flashing three gold crowns, and some badly infected gums.

"Come again!" She encouraged.

Ruka whirled on her heel and took off down the street. "Bite me."

Bonnie kept up, her cheek pressed into the brown paper sack. "Where are we going now?"

Ruka barely heard her, instead digging the rest of her budgeted funds out of her skirt pocket. They had about 300 berries left, not including the remaining savings stored away by Vegapunk. He'd managed to tap into Dragon's savings account before the Gorosei had terminated it and stolen back about three-fourths of Dragon's almost endless amount of paid assignment deposits. Vegapunk had it stored away, and would send a little to them at a time every few months.

Nevertheless, Dragon hated this. He'd said, not long after they started relying on his savings, that he'd rather Vega sent them all the cash in bulk so he could burn it piece by piece. It was blood money, he'd said. Money he'd been given for killing men, women, children, and whole families. People who likely would've joined them in their ongoing, possibly foolhardy struggle to overthrow the World Government. This was a mission that required more help than they currently possessed. An army's worth.

But who could you trust when your enemy was the world itself?

"Oi, Netty?" Bonnie called, and Ruka looked away from the wad of berries in her hand. "I asked you where we were going?"

"Down to the pier." Ruka answered, staring down at the harbor with its boardwalks and the grand old ships anchored there. "We've still got some time before we have to head back to the hideout."

Bonnie's expression turned hateful, and she looked away. Ruka knit her brow, worried. It had been some time now since their crew's destruction. To memorialize them, Ruka had gotten a second tattoo: the emblem of the Rackham pirates. It could be found on her upper right arm, near her shoulder, and had been made by mixing metallic paint with Flint's ashes. Bonnie had cast the rest of him into a far east wind. Since then, the look in her eyes had darkened as the time without them passed. Her bright, enduring baby sister had become warped by heartache, loneliness, and loathing.

Loathing which should've been directed at the Gorosei. Instead, it seemed to be directed at Dragon.

Ruka had tried talking to Bonnie about it. Dragon wasn't to blame for what happened to their family. It was Ruka who had begged Flint to help her, even adding insults to provoke him. It was Ruka who should've taken that bullet for Dragon, not their captain. Ruka who had ran and left their mother in the dark that night. Ruka who hadn't made it in time to save their friend. It was Ruka every single time. Dragon was just another one of the World Government's victims.

Bonnie had listened without allowing any of the words in.

Now, looking at Bonnie glower out at the crimson horizon, she couldn't help thinking she was seeing a future traitor. If Ruka weren't here, if it would only hurt Dragon, Bonnie would rat him out to the marines without a second thought.

"Listen, Bonn," She said, unthinkingly using the old nickname from Bonnie's toddler days, "I need you to forgive him. He hasn't done anything wrong. I'm the one who—"

"It was him." Bonnie said, each word dropping like a boulder into ice water.

"But please," Ruka began, looking at Bonnie in desperation.

"It was him." Bonnie repeated with a growl, turning her head so that Ruka saw the hellfire in her eyes. "If he didn't exist, if he hadn't shown up when he did, we'd still be there. On that ship. With our men. And with—"

She broke off, her voice catching before she could speak the name. She clapped one hand over her mouth, and ducked her head so her pink, frayed, unwashed fringe hid her overshadowed eyes. The bright pink of her hair had dulled from weeks of disregard. What was silky and smooth before was now curled from dead ends, slick with oil and crumbly with loose gravel and dirt from their various hiding spots. Worse were her cheeks, which had become sullen from malnourishment, and the bags under her eyes from sleep deprivation.

Bonnie's other arm curled too tightly around the brown sack with their groceries, and the last two apples Ruka had grabbed toppled over. They rolled over, hitting the toes of Ruka's left shoe, and she bent to retrieve them. She dropped one back in the sack and shoved the other in her mouth, sinking her teeth into the fruit to hold it there. Looking and feeling like a pig, she took the sack from Bonnie, supporting it in the crook of one arm. Her fingers curled over the apple in her mouth, tearing it free and leaving a chunk of fruit in her mouth.

"C'mon," She said as she chewed, taking the bitten apple and shoving it into Bonnie's mouth.

Bonnie took it in her hands and bit off the piece her teeth had snagged. Ruka beamed when she swallowed. Finally she'd managed to get some food in her.

"You and I against the world." She said, taking Bonnie's hand when it dropped from the apple. "Just like always, right?"

She turned, smiling and trying to ignore the look of dull hatred that seemed to possess her sister. As she walked, pulling Bonnie by the hand, she couldn't help wondering about the worst-case scenario, and how much further she'd be willing to go to protect Dragon.

 **00000**

Dragon tapped his finger against his bent knee impatiently. Where he sat curled up under the marine captain's desk, no one could see him. Unless he did something to make someone do a sweep of the area with their haki, no one would find him.

The room tilted back and forth with an annoying subtlety as the ship swayed. Golden evening sunlight filtered through the blinds at the back window which overlooked the desk, casting long shadows across the floor.

He checked the clock on the wall. Ten minutes had passed since he'd hidden himself. He'd been careful, sneaking on board when everyone was below deck and circling around to the captain's office and ducking inside when it was empty.

He closed his eyes, opened one and looked out over the room. This was a marine captain's battleship. Docked at Ilusia Kingdom. He'd seen the townspeople's faces when it had sailed into port—this was an unexpected arrival. In such a small kingdom, news travels fast. There was no way anyone would've missed the announcement that a battle ship would anchor at their harbor.

More importantly, Kuma had reported back to him. There were four more battleships anchored around the island in hidden coves.

Dragon didn't think they were here to escort anyone. The World Noble's loved to make a show of themselves. They wouldn't hide.

Which begged the question—why were there so many battleships? Why had the come here, to this tiny kingdom? Ilusia was apart of the World Government, but for a standard checkup this seemed a little extreme.

Dragon moved, rising up from beneath the desk. He kept his hood pulled down over his head and knelt beside the locked desk drawer, paper-clip in hand. It would be expedient to just bust it open. But he couldn't risk alerting the marine's to his presence here. Not when there were so many. If they had to, they'd blow the whole island up to take him down.

So he went to work at picking the lock. It took less than thirty seconds, and then he found himself staring into a cluttered stack of files. At the top was a single file, neat and tidy, paper-clipped shut.

Thinking it had to be new, he took it from the drawer and set it on the desk. Opening it, he found documents typed out in a special code, the sight of which turned his blood to ice.

He braced his fingertips against the wood as his heart raced in his chest. He gulped down a lump in his throat, unable to breathe.

This was… This was one of the codes used by CP0. Only he couldn't decode this, because this was one of those things he hadn't been allowed to touch or know. Like the security control rooms in Mariejois. Like the antidotes to certain poisons. This was one of those well-kept secrets, which made its appearance in the worst of times.

What was in this file? It had to be the reason there were so many marine-captains and battleships here.

He took a notepad and pen from his pocket and copied down the first ten pages of code in lightning speed. It went on for thirty more, but he didn't know when the captain would return and he needed to see the rest of the file.

So he pocketed his notepad and carefully flipped page after page, careful not to crinkle or tear any of it. For a good forty or so pages more, there was nothing but code. But in the back of the file, tucked under one of the paper clips, was a stack of pictures.

He heard the floor creak outside the door and his heart stopped. Snatching one picture out of the stack, he swept the file back into order, closed it, and dropped it back into the drawer. He ducked back under the desk and shut the drawer just as the door opened.

"Are all the preparations ready?" A man asked in an authoritative voice.

Dragon curled tighter, eyes flickering with unease. He knew that voice.

Yudai.

"We've received word from the other ships." Hayashi replied. "Everything's ready. We can sail at nightfall, and we should arrive there tomorrow evening."

Arrive where? Make it in time for what? What was going on?

"And the scholar?" Yudai asked.

For some reason, this question made every hair on the back of Dragon's neck stand up like sharp needles. He blinked profusely and pinched the photo in his hand. For some reason, something in his gut was urging him to look at the picture now. The same seemingly irrational urge made him listen well, too well, to the rest of the conversation. It went like this:

"It's been quite a while since there's been a buster call. I hope all goes well."

Dragon paled, eyes turning wide as saucer platers. Eyes void of calm or hope or cheer.

A buster call… A BUSTER CALL?!

He very nearly shot to his feet then and there. If he were on his own, he would have. But taking on five battleships with just himself and three friends was foolhardy. But logic didn't make staying hidden any easier.

"What about the other ships?" Yudai asked.

"Some have docked, as we have. Some plan on sailing until nightfall." Hayashi answered, a smile in his voice. "I was told Sakazuki and Kuzan are on two of the ships."

Dragon felt a stabbing pain in his chest, along with a quivering fear in his stomach. Those names were the worst news of all. How was he going to stop this craziness if those two were involved?

There was no stopping this. He knew that better than most. The only real option he had left was to go and warn the people of whatever unfortunate country was the target of this buster call. But that meant figuring out who was the target. He tried to focus on the conversation between Hayashi and Yudai, but the thrumming of his anxious heart was loud in his ears.

"—Be very careful not to give the townspeople any reason to panic." Yudai ordered, sounding grim and determined. "We must not allow any word of unrest to reach _them_ before we do. As for the woman, there's no guarantee she's here. But this is the fastest route to follow if she is to reach her homeland in time to warn them. The vessel she stole was lacking in supplies. She can't starve herself forever."

"What do you want me to do?" Hayashi asked eagerly.

"Send more men into town. The forests as well." Yudai ordered, and Dragon heard his feet scuff over the floorboards as he approached the desk. "Warn the other ships to keep an eye out for the stolen vessel, and suggest that they help search."

Yudai's fingers clasped over the desk chair, drawing it out from under the desk. Dragon tensed. The captain was going to take a seat, probably to peruse that God forsaken file of his. What should he do? He could run for it. He could even knock them out with his haki. But then they would know he was here.

He couldn't give himself away without exposing the others to danger. Kuma. Bonnie. Ruka…!

"Sir!" Someone new shouted as the door was thrown open. It hit the wall with enough force to shake the whole cabin.

"Calm down, lad. You need to knock first." Yudai said in a comforting tone.

"Forgive me, sir, but the fugitive! She's been spotted in town!"

Hayashi and Yudai both gasped. Three pairs of shoes rushed for the door, which slammed behind them, giving Dragon a sense of finality.

Dragon waited ten seconds, gave the room a quick sweep of his haki, and rose out from under the desk.

"You didn't plan that did you?" He asked Kuma, who'd miraculously appeared in the corner of the room.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, expression intensely calm, hood pulled up over his head like Dragon.

"Yes." He answered knowingly.

Dragon gave him a reprehensive look. "That's risky. They'll figure out the lead was false, and then they'll be wondering where it came from."

"They won't track it back to us. They have bigger problems at the moment." Kuma reassured him. "They're planning a buster call."

"I know." Dragon said, raising the stolen picture to his face.

"Is that from the file?" Kuma asked. When Dragon nodded, he continued: "I just came from another marine shipped, the one docked on the far side of the island. I've seen the file. The pictures show some sort of slaughter, but I'm not sure what they're from, or who was killed."

"Doctors. Or perhaps scientists." Dragon told him, eyeing the photo. It was oddly angled, but showed a few dead men and women lying on wooden board planks. Probably a ship. "From the broken belongings on the ground, its safe to say they were caught in some kind of explosive blast. Probably more than one. But there are bullet wounds in their backs."

"It had to be the marines." Kuma stated. "That's their signature. Weaken their ship with cannon balls, then finish off the surviving crew. They do it to pirates and rogues all the time."

Dragon nodded. "Question is, who did they kill? And who is this fugitive they're desperate to find?"

"I don't know. But I heard something else." Kuma asked, and Dragon looked away from the picture to lock eyes with his friend. "You remember the other 'D' I told you was in the navy? The one besides your father?"

"Jaguar D. Saul." Dragon answered. "What about him?"

"They're saying he helped the fugitive escape. In other words, he's defected."

 **00000**

At dusk, Bonnie and Ruka sat on a park bench at the edge of town as they watched the sun sink below the horizon. Crisp sea water hit the rocky coast and splashed up, splattering over the ground and the toes of their bare feet. Two pairs of dirty, worn men's boots sat in a pile to their left against the leg of wooden bench. Ten feet behind them, the noises created by the rushing townspeople were dying down.

Ruka took a fifth bite out of the second apple, chewing softly before she passed the fruit to Bonnie. Bonnie took it in her hands and raised it to her face, sinking her teeth into it. She paused, eyes vast and empty, and retracted her teeth without claiming a bite.

Ruka looked at her sadly, then returned her gaze to the horizon.

"Looks the same, doesn't it?" Ruka asked, smiling softly at the horizon.

Bonnie looked up, and nodded quietly. "Yeah… It really does."

"Did you know it's her birthday?" Ruka asked fondly, twisting to look at Bonnie fondly.

"Momma's?" Bonnie asked, knitting her brow with a frown.

"Nah.. Mavis's!" Ruka reminded, watching as the wonder rippled over Bonnie's face.

Mavis. Their partner in crime. Their childhood friend. Their sister in arms. So much more. The irreplaceable ally they'd lost to slave traders. Then to the Tenryuubito. Then to the Gorosei.

"Mavis… Mavis was wonderful…" Bonnie recalled, leaning forward from the timeless, crushing grief. She folded her hands in her lap.

"She was awesome. She stole the best food, had the best aim, swindled twice as many men as you used to." Ruka recalled with pride.

"Mavis was murdered by Dragon."

Ruka jumped at the words. Her shoulders jerked into a square as her eyes filled with fear. An odd taste like copper made itself present in her mouth.

"He didn't—!" She started defensively, whipping her head up.

Bonnie's head snapped to the side, glaring eyes boring into Ruka's.

"Yes, he did!" She stated venomously. "I heard him tell you. He shot them both in the head! What do you call that, Netty? A friendly farewell?"

Ruka shook her head and turned where she sat. "They made him do it. They forced him to! It's not his fault!"

"He could've said no! He could've ran or killed himself! I would've! I would've died rather than do what he's done!"

"Bonnie, he tried! He tried!" Ruka admitted out of desperation. "He tried all those things! It didn't work, they always stopped him before he could get too far or finish himself off!"

"Then you should've done it for him." Bonnie said harshly.

Ruka flinched. She almost had. Once. In the cavern on Eel Island Pass, after Dragon had protected her and ended up badly hurt. Weak enough for her to slit his throat with his own dagger. She almost did. She'd held the knife to his throat and been so close. Too close.

If he hadn't looked at her the way he had at that moment then she most certainly would've killed him. But…

"I almost did, Bonnie." Ruka confessed, earning a look of mild shock from her sister. "I almost did, but then…"

"Then?" Bonnie prompted.

Ruka wrung her hands together, gripped them. "He looked at me like he wanted me to do it. He was so accepting, so exhausted, he actually wanted me to do it. So that he didn't have to fight anymore. So I could get away, get back to you."

"Why didn't you?" Bonnie asked with disappointment.

"There'd be no honor in it, Bonnie!" Ruka exclaimed, deeply hurt. "How can you say you want him dead? To my face! You know, I—!"

"You're just blind." Bonnie interrupted, shocking Ruka. "You're so overprotective of him, you know that? Just 'cuz he got dealt a bad hand in life doesn't mean he gets a clean slate after murdering who knows how many people! After shooting our mother and friend! How can you possibly care about someone who murdered our family? Geez, just looking at the two of you makes me sick!"

Ruka shot to her feet. "I can't believe you just said that to me. I can't believe any of this. I told you, Dragon is good!"

"Only in your eyes." Bonnie retorted, getting to her feet to face her sister.

Ruka clenched her fists at her sides. "Kuma believes in him too. So do I. Why don't you trust me?"

"Trust you? I don't even know who you are anymore!" Bonnie shouted, and Ruka's mouth fell open. "Do you even hear yourself? You're married to our mother's _murderer_! You've changed, Netty. My sister wouldn't act this way, or talk like you do, or look at the horizon and think of the one we used to watch with momma without feeling any guilt! Luke Read wouldn't do this. He wouldn't betray Flint's memory like this."

Ruka's stunned horror slowly turned to red hot anger. Her face twisted with rage as her clenched fists shook at her sides.

"Who. Is. It. Who has really betrayed Flint?" Ruka asked, finally voicing all her frustration at Bonnie. "Do you even remember how Flint died?"

"He died because you led him and our crew on a suicide mission to rescue Dragon." Bonnie spat.

"He died because I begged him to help me!" Ruka countered. "He died because he believed in me, and wanted to believe in Dragon like I do! That's why he took that bullet! That's why our crew sacrificed themselves! They all wanted to save Dragon!"

"No." Bonnie said with adamant rejection. "They didn't want to go. None of them did. You made them go. For him. And they did go. But to save him for you. If not for you, they would have let him die."

Ruka's hands went numb. All anger left her eyes, leaving them sad and sorrowful. She stared at the ground, no longer able to bear the impact of Bonnie's loathing eyes.

"How can you say all this?" Ruka asked, voice low and full of anguish. "Do you even remember what Flint's last words were? What his last act was?"

At that, Ruka's fingers went to the tattoo circling her ring finger.

"Flint wanted his death and our crewmates' deaths to mean something." Bonnie hissed. "That didn't mean he approved."

"Do you hate me, Bonnie?" She asked, her fingers curling around her left wrist.

"No. I love you, Netty." Bonnie said without feeling. "That's why he's still alive. If you weren't around, he'd want to die. And I would kill him. Because he'd really deserve it then."

"Dragon isn't easy to kill." Ruka argued pitifully.

"A man who wants to die is very easy to kill." Bonnie said with finality and fell back into her seat on the bench.

Ruka stared hard at Bonnie. She couldn't believe she was hearing this from her. It was like hearing gibberish from an insane person, only the insane person was her sister and the gibberish sounded like vengeful hatred, which was directed at Dragon.

Ruka's folded her trembling hands over her stomach, where the numbness sank into her knuckles and made her fingers clench.

"I'm sorry about Flint." Ruka said, trying to keep her voice level.

Bonnie raised her head, jutting her chin out at the horizon. Her cold eyes lacked any trace of warmth or compassion. She wouldn't look at Ruka, even though Ruka was looking at her in silent pleading desperation.

"Bonnie…" Ruka said, crossing her hands over the base of her neck. Her throat felt warm and tingly, and there was an urge. A bad one. But treasonously tempting…

"Bonnie, I—" She began when something knocked into her shoulder.

Ruka's feet skidded over the tough-packed dirt, scraping up dust. She caught herself by raising her arms, and looked up just in time to see a woman with long, flowing silver hair in an ankle-length coat grab their sack of groceries.

Ruka blinked the glaring sunshine away. The thieving woman with the white hair looked over her shoulder and caught Ruka's stunned gaze.

For a split-second, all time stopped. They looked at each other, and Ruka felt something. Like a punch in the heart, but less hurtful. More of a sting.

And then she remembered.

Bonnie shot to her feet. "You!"

Then time started up again, like the clock accelerated. Ruka straightened up out of pure shock. That thieving woman… She'd seen her before. But what was she doing here?

The thief with her billowing coat and flowing hair was taking off, racing down the coast line, getting further away with each passing second.

"Hey come back here!" Bonnie ordered, stubborn and proud. "That's our food!"

Bonnie dashed off, fists in the air. Ruka took a moment to appreciate how her sister had sounded like her old self for just a moment. Then she jumped down to the coast, balancing atop the vertex of the first gigantic boulder. She jumped from one to the other at top speed, traveling down the coast like so.

She got ahead of the thief in less than a minute. Bonnie was up on the ledge, closing in on the thief, one hand stretched out to grab a handful of long silver hair.

The thief whipped her head to stare wide-eyed at Ruka, apparently amazed at how she'd been able to catch up with her by jumping rocks. Ruka narrowed her eyes and leapt from the vertex of her current foothold onto the ledge, skidding to a stop in front of the thief.

The first thing she noticed was that she, the thief, was still quite beautiful.

Then she spotted the sack of groceries the thief was clutching to her chest.

Ruka reached around, fingers searching under her downed hood until they found the hilt of Flint's sword. She whipped it out and pointed it at the woman, holding the tip to the base of the woman's throat.

"Hello, Olvia." She greeted without kindness, sounding not unlike her husband. "Remember me?"

 **00000**

First, Olvia was forced to hand the sack of food back to Ruka. Then Ruka had to convince Bonnie to let go of the woman's hair and quit glaring at her like she was a murderer. Then, the three women walked back to the bench where Ruka and Bonnie had left their shoes. Olvia was allowed to sit on the bench next to the brown sack of groceries only after promising three-dozen times that she wouldn't try to steal anything again.

"I'm not really in the mood for thieves." Ruka said, still upset over her fight with Bonnie. "But I guess it's good to see you."

"Don't say that!" Bonnie shouted in her ear. "She almost cost us like a week of rations just now!"

"I'm sorry." Olvia apologized, getting to her feet. "I swear I didn't recognize you. You've both changed so much."

"Oh yeah!" Bonnie shouted sarcastically. "Bright pink hair is incredibly common!"

Ruka gave her a cross look as Olvia grew to look more uncomfortable.

"I really am sorry." She apologized amiably. "I've been hungry for days and I can't afford to linger here too long. This island is surrounded by marine ships."

Ruka caught that, her gaze turning suspicious. "Why are you worried about the marine ships?"

Olvia blinked twice, looking both left and right before she looked back at Ruka.

"I thought you would've heard about it. I heard about you." She said, sounding unsure.

"Heard what?" Bonnie demanded.

Olvia's face turned ashen. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She curled her lips back, dried her eyes and met Ruka's questioning gaze with shame.

"We were discovered." Olvia admitted sadly with a shrug. Bonnie and Ruka both paled instantly. "Me. All my friends. The marines raided our ship and killed everyone but me. They went through our belongings. They learned what we were studying."

"But you guys are just archeologists." Ruka said, eyes shifting from confusion. "You just read books and study dusty old ruins. You're not pirates! Why would they—?"

She broke off, noticing the doubt in Olvia's distant gaze.

Ruka knit her brow. "I don't understand. What aren't you telling me…?"

Olvia squared her shoulders, shaking her head adamantly.

"Olvia. Talk to me." She insisted, on the verge of hugging the woman who almost robber her. "What's that look? Did something else happen?"

"You said before that you had a kid." Bonnie recalled, startling Ruka. "Is she okay? Did something happen to her?"

At the mention of her daughter, Olvia jumped, her expression twisting from one of grief to horror and protectiveness.

Ruka reached to her. Maybe to grab her sleeve or hand. Maybe to comfort her. She didn't find out, because then she noticed something else.

Bonnie and Ruka both pulled their hoods up at the same time. Bonnie grabbed Olvia's wrist and pulled her behind her, with the two sisters coming together so their shoulders touched. Ruka felt Olvia crouch behind them, not breathing, not moving. She was as still and quiet as the boulders lining the coast.

Ruka's overshadowed gaze stared at the duo of cloaked, capped male marines approaching them. They were both quiet as they came to stand behind the bench. The taller of the two had his arms crossed over his chest, obviously suspicious of the two women. Ruka worried they'd been too late in hiding Olvia, but the two men seemed more focused on the sisters than their friend.

"What are you two doing out here all by yourselves?" The shorter marine asked, frowning at the girls. "It's late. Didn't you hear the sirens issuing the curfew?"

"There's no curfew on this island." Ruka argued, self-righteous and stubborn.

Bonnie crossed her arms and looked down at the marines.

"There is for now." The taller one informed, sounding much more conversational. "We have criminals running around. Dangerous fugitives. Citizens need to stay indoors."

Ruka felt a pinch in her gut. Was it them? Did they know that Dragon was on the island?

"Yeah, well, go find 'em then." Bonnie mouthed, putting her hands on her hips and taking a step forward.

Ruka's hand shot forward to grab Bonnie's wrist. Her sister shot her a look of fury, but Ruka held her ground, eyes steady and obvious, clearly thinking of the crouching Olvia behind them who was clearly in some sort of trouble. Maybe it was her they were looking for.

"I'd mind my attitude if I were you." The shorter marine said with a nod of his head.

"Get off this ledge and back to your homes." The tall one ordered as he turned to leave. "We'll apprehend anyone who hinders the investigation."

Ruka waited, withholding breath as she watched them go. Not until she saw the two men re-enter the range of the town and disappear into an alley way did she relax.

"What's this about—" Ruka said, turning to look down at where Olvia should've been.

She gasped, finding the space empty. She and Bonnie exchanged looks of incredulity. Ruka opened her mouth to shout for Olvia, but stopped. She couldn't do that. Not without looking suspicious. Those men couldn't have gotten out of hearing range yet.

"Where'd she go?" She asked Bonnie, who was looking about in desperation.

"I don't know! I don't see her anywhere!" Bonnie whispered back, moving in close.

"Olvia…!" Ruka uttered and grit her teeth.

"Hey, what's that?" Bonne asked, pointing at their crumpled boots sitting in a pile together.

Ruka looked and saw something balled up and stuffed inside her own manky, old boot. She blinked twice, and approached on unsteady feet. She knelt and retrieved the balled paper, raising it to her face as she gently grasped it in cold fingers.

Bonnie knelt beside her as she undid the ball and smoothed it out over her knee cap. Upon seeing it's true contents, Ruka couldn't help but sigh in awe.

 **00000**

Kuma tossed another piece of driftwood into the soft, blue fire. Sparks flew into the air of their shore side, cavern hideout.

Dragon sat on his knees, leaning over a flat boulder with the coded notes and the photo laid out in front of him. Fireflies buzzed around him as his anxious, squinty eyes flickered over the notes and bored into every detail of the photo.

Outside, the last remaining slivers of sunshine were quickly disappearing into a blue-purple, nighttime murkiness. More fireflies danced in the air over the rocks-and-seashells shoreline. Clear blue waves ebbed and waned over the shore and coral reefs.

Their cavern hideout was large, with a high ceiling, and an earthen ramp that led up to a second level of the cavern which, after exploration, turned out to be deeply complicated like a maze. Thus the four rebels kept to the first level. The bags with their cots and futons were stashed behind a pile of loose rocks that Dragon and Kuma could move with ease. They kept most of their supplies on their persons in case the need for a quick getaway arrived.

"The girls are late." Kuma said suddenly.

Dragon drummed his fingers over his temple, then cast his friend a dull look.

"Don't you want to look for them?" Kuma asked.

"Ruka can handle herself." Dragon said, unconcerned, and ran his finger over a line of code. If he knew just one word, it would've been of help.

"You say that because you know saying otherwise would anger her." Kuma accused.

"I say it because I know its true." Dragon replied matter-of-factly.

"Have you learned anything from focusing on those papers?" Kuma asked, referring to the notes.

Dragon dropped his head into his hand, defeated. "It's like banging my head against a wall."

"Perhaps you copied them down incorrectly."

"I didn't." Dragon insisted. "This is just one of those secrets they made sure to keep from me."

"Perhaps this is a trap for you." Kuma suggested, and Dragon looked up, appalled. "They know you well. I bet they're fully aware that you wish to bring them down and that this is how you would go about it. Through investigation."

"What do you mean?"

"In other words," Kuma pointed at the coded notes, "The message in those words are quite clear. They're telling you to back off or they will accelerate their plans."

Dragon considered this, then shook his head.

"No." Dragon said, saddened. "This isn't about me. This is bigger than me."

"You think they wouldn't call in a buster call to eliminate you?"

"No, they would, but that's not what this is about." Dragon said. "I'm certain."

"Then what do you think this is about?"

Dragon paused to think this over. A fugitive, a woman scholar, was on the run from the World Government. Five battleships were anchored around this one island. A traitor, Jaguar D. Saul, had defected and was also on the run. A buster call was underway, and given the number of battleships anchored at Illusia, it had to be nearby. The fugitive scholar would've taken the quickest route home to warn her people, which meant she was from the targeted island…!

Dragon straightened up and started rummaging through his pockets. He found a small map of the west blue and laid it on top of the notes. He drew out a quill pen and a bottle of ink and set those in front of him. He drew an X over Illusia Kingdom, and using a straight edge, connected Illusia with the various nearby islands.

"Five islands are within a three-day traveling distance of this one." Dragon said, bracing his hands against the rock. "One of these five islands are the target, and the destination of the female scholar."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do." Dragon answered, not wanting to explain when two of their people were missing.

"Very well. Which island?"

Dragon grimaced. There was no way of knowing for certain which island. Not unless they found the scholar before the marines did. If she were even on this island. And if they found her, would she even trust them enough to reveal her home island to them when it would soon be under siege?

"We're back!"

Dragon raised his head at once and got to his feet. He turned in time to see Ruka and Bonnie walking through the cave, with Bonnie holding the sack of groceries they'd set out for earlier that day.

Though worried over various factors regarding the buster call and the fugitive scholar, Dragon still picked up on it quickly. Ruka was a good ten feet behind her sister when she entered the cave. Her expression was one of conflicted levels of worry, probably concerning various subjects. She eyed the ground behind her at an angle, and wasn't concerned when Bonnie marched past Dragon with eyes sharper than a hawk's.

"Hiya, Kuma. Have an apple!" Bonnie chirped, throwing pair of fruit-deprived apple cores at Kuma. He caught them in one of his oversized hands and eyed them with a mixture of awkward sympathy and curiosity.

Dragon ignored them and walked over to Ruka. He grabbed her hand and led her back out to the shore, away from Kuma and Bonnie.

"Don't give me that look!" Bonnie pointed at the apple cores. "We only had a few bites. They're still good."

Kuma gave her a good, long, blank, but still judging, look.

"I SAID DON'T GIVE ME THAT LOOK!" Bonnie was saying as Dragon escaped the range of her shrill voice.

He and Ruka came to stand over the shoreline, the shallow edges of the waves washing around the soles of their shoes. Fireflies buzzed in their faces and around them as the first stars came into view overhead.

"What's wrong?" He asked, sincere.

Ruka knit her brow over her elusive, pained, and armored gaze. She folded her arms behind her back, but he heard her crumple something in her hand.

"I ran into an old friend in town." She told him, and he became cautiously hopeful.

"Can we trust her not to give you away?" He asked.

"It sounded like she was in trouble with the government too, so I don't think she has much of a choice." Ruka said with a sad shake of her head.

"A pirate friend?" Dragon asked.

Ruka shook her head. "No, not a pirate. But she is someone who knew I was a woman."

"Really?" Dragon asked, surprised. "That was a rare privilege, wasn't it? What did she do to earn your trust?"

Ruka shrugged casually. "Nothing. She just walked in on me when I was changing."

A low silence hung between them for a second. Dragon looked away from her, familiar with her enough by now to know it was true. Neither she nor her sister had any shame. Especially now. Over the course of the last few weeks, the two women had often forgotten most or all of their clothes, and Kuma or Dragon or both had had to remind them multiple times.

"Alright." Dragon said, deciding to leave that subject unmentioned. "So, what's wrong? If she's in trouble with the government, shouldn't you have invited her back here?"

"I was going to." Ruka replied meekly, head sinking. "But we were interrupted, and then she just sort of took off when I wasn't looking. I never even got to ask her what was wrong. But she did mention a few things."

"What sort of things?" Dragon asked.

Ruka frowned, eyes falling shut. "Something about her friends being discovered. That doesn't make any sense though. They're not pirates, though they were travelling around a lot when we met."

"When was this?" Dragon asked her quickly. For some reason he felt a sickening twist in his gut.

"It was just after Bonnie and I joined up with Flint. There was this major storm at sea, and our ship had already been in pretty bad shape. We had to dock at this nearby island, which should've been deserted."

"But it wasn't." Dragon said, eyes shifting as he caught on. "That's where you met."

"Yeah." Ruka said sadly, looking down the shore. "Her name is Olvia, see. She and her friends were doing some strange research on the island. They had all these large paper scrolls with weird letters on them. There were notes and books with thousands of pages and even compasses."

"If they're just researchers, then the world government shouldn't have anything against them." Dragon said matter-of-factly. But he had the sense there was something else.

Ruka raised one hand, palm-up, and pointed at him. "Except they were hiding something! We found them by accident, and they totally freaked out. Olvia was the first to grab a gun, but I was even faster than her. Flint got everyone to calm down, and then the researchers made a deal with us. If we didn't tell anyone we'd seen them there, they'd help us fix our ship. They agreed. Later, after I became friends with Olvia, she told me they only researched at night so we wouldn't see them again."

"Did she say why?" Dragon asked, puzzled.

Ruka shook her head. "No, and that's the other thing. She wouldn't tell me what they were researching. I only asked because I didn't get why it was such a big secret. None of those books they had out were anything special—besides from being way to expensive for books. But Olvia insisted that what she and the others were researching was dangerous, so she couldn't get us involved in it."

Dragon folded his arms over his chest. Why did he have… The worst feeling that this was somehow more important than Ruka made it out to be.

"How did she act today?" Dragon asked, no longer concerned about just Ruka. "What went down exactly?"

"Well, she tried to steal our food." Ruka recalled, and Dragon straightened in surprise. "Then, before she left, she stuffed this in one of our boots."

Ruka revealed what she had kept hidden behind her back up till that point. She held it out to Dragon, and he took it, pinching it between his fingers. He lifted it to his face.

It was another photograph. This one was different than the slaughter-esque images in the marines' file. It was a family portrait. A much-abused picture, one that was worn through with crinkles so the actual photo was left worn away and peeling in some places. Really, only the faces of the people in the photo were left intact.

A young mother, a young father, and their baby who was wrapped in a pink bundle. They stood together, a happy family of three. The man had plain features and a kind expression, and wore a big white lab coat. The mother was dressed much more casually, and was laughing as the baby, who had its mother's eyes, pulled on a lock of silver hair.

"It's Olvia's family." Ruka told him, stepping over to stand with him. "It's the only photo she has of the three of them together. Her husband died just after the baby girl was born, and apparently whatever Olvia was researching was really important to him."

Dragon stared at the young father. He knew his face from somewhere.

"Olvia always said that their baby's future," Ruka said, both confused and proud, "Depended on what they uncovered in their research."

Dragon pinched the photo. "I know this person."

Ruka looked up at him. "Huh?"

"I know this person." He repeated, raising his head. "But… No, it can't be…"

Dragon dropped his hand without releasing the photo and started walking back to the cave. Unable to take the suspense, he took off running.

"Dragon?!" Ruka called, following him back inside the cave.

Dragon rushed past Bonnie and Kuma and came to kneel in front of the rock with all his coded notes. He sat on his knees and carefully moved the ink and map out of the way, taking the photo he'd stolen earlier that day and placing it beside the family portrait. He leaned over it, staring carefully at one corner in the image where many things had fallen in a haphazard mess. Between the firelight and the poor angle of the photo, Dragon squinted and still couldn't quite see it.

Ruka ran up behind him, panting, her hands braced against her knees.

"Sheesh, what's going on with you?" She asked, humorously concerned.

"Did you figure something out?" Kuma asked, calmly curious.

"Ruka, you have a magnifying glass don't you?" Dragon asked, holding his hand out. "Let me borrow it for a bit."

"Ah… Okay." Ruka said, reaching into her skirt pocket and dragging out a small magnifying glass with a whale-bone handle.

Bonnie was glaring at Dragon, but he barely had time to notice. Instead, he held the magnifying glass over the corner in the image, focusing it on a pile of junk. He concentrated and found, miraculously, what he had been looking for. He must have passed his eyes over it a thousand times in the hours he'd had the photo, but never had he realized its relevance before now.

Ruka folded her arms over one of Dragon's broad shoulders, and leaned down to get a peek at the photo herself.

"What do you see, Dragon?" She asked, bemused and knowing, her tone a familiar testament to how well she knew him.

"There." Dragon said, satisfied but excited. "Look at that."

Ruka squinted, then gasped, now appalled.

"But that's!" She half-shouted, and raised the photo her friend had given her.

"Olvia's husband." Dragon stated.

For in the image he held, in the corner of that half-blown-to-bits junk, was a cracked photograph in a wooden frame. Though blurred and unclear, there was no mistaking it. The same man featured in Olvia's keepsake photo was also shown in the cracked photograph. A plain man in a lab coat, smiling calmly and professionally out at them.

Bonnie rushed to Ruka's side. She looked at Olvia's photo, then the one Dragon held, managing to shoot him an icy stare in the process. She, too, noticed Olvia's husband shown in both photos, and turned deathly pale.

"What does it mean?" Ruka asked Dragon.

Bonnie said nothing, but she too was looking at Dragon expectantly.

"It means," Dragon said, with a grim steadiness as he got to his feet, "That your friend is the fugitive the marines are looking for. She probably knows why there are so many ships docked around here . And where they're headed."

Dragon was quick with the briefing. He quickly shared all he and Kuma had found out from eavesdropping on the marines: the plans for the buster call, the defector Jaguar D. Saul, the presence of Kuzan and Sakazuki on the marine ships involved in the buster call, and what they knew about Olvia's involvement.

Ruka and Bonnie drank it all in, exchanged looks of immense shock, and looked back at Dragon.

"But Olvia's just a researcher!" Ruka argued, not understanding. "They just studied old books and wrote out long, boring walls of notes in journals. They're not pirates! Why would the government—"

In answer, Dragon snatched up his photo, and waved it at Ruka. She and Bonnie focused on it for just a moment, then gasped in unison.

"They're the same people who were with Olvia last time!" Bonnie exclaimed, pointing to the people lying dead in the picture.

Ruka threw her hand down, pinching the photo uneasily.

"This doesn't make any sense!" Ruka shouted, clearly wanting someone to blame.

"Yes, it does." Dragon told her, and quickly knelt back to the rock. He grabbed his pen, dipped it ink, and quickly sketched out a large cube with odd lettering on one side. He stood, showing Ruka and Bonnie the illustration. The girls both grabbed it, their hands holding one side each as they leaned over it.

"What's that?" Ruka asked, oblivious.

Bonnie, baffled, looked to Ruka, her eyes shifting to Dragon for just a moment to send him a judging look.

"It's called a Poneglyph." Dragon told them. "Have you ever seen one before?"

Two pairs of female eyes questioned the importance of the illustration.

"Are you sure?" Dragon pressed, leaning forward to point a finger at the drawing; Bonnie recoiled slightly, her hand dropping from the illustration as she took a step back. "There might have been one with Olvia and the others back when you first met them."

Ruka mulled that over, tilting her head back. She pursed her lips and looked at Dragon, evidently having remembered something disturbing.

"They didn't have one with them," Ruka answered, "But those big scrolls with weird letters on them?"

"Yes?" Dragon asked, interested.

Ruka tilted her wrist, so the illustration on the paper became transparent in the firelight.

"I think they were copies of these big rocks." She said. "The symbols match."

Dragon sighed, agitated, mounting worry making his thoughts spin.

He gave Ruka an expression that was a cross between sympathy and urgency.

"I think your friend was studying Poneglyphs." Dragon said in agitation. "There's no time. I need you to show me where you saw her."

"Something tells me it's too late." Kuma said, getting to his feet.

Dragon looked at him, wanting to tell him off despite how useless that would've been. Kuma trudged past him, keeping his head low to keep from hitting the cavern ceiling. He walked out of the cave and moved halfway out to shore, his eyes on the coast line.

Dragon looked, too, and forced himself to swallow the shaky tension he was feeling. He and the girls followed Kuma out to the shore line, where they stood together in a line.

Out on the water, already several hundred feet away, was a single marine ship. Sailing off into the darkness. Dragon focused his eyesight and saw a single, weak light glowing on the deck, as well as a single female figure wearing a large hat.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's her." He told the others, already knowing her from the photos.

"Olvia…" Ruka said, wide-eyed and grieved.

"What do we do now?" Bonnie asked, looking at Dragon as if he were responsible.

Before he could answer, Ruka was rushing past him in a sprint towards the water. He knew well enough to recognize the impatient despair morphing her expression at that moment.

She reached the shore and ran out into the water, quickly making her way through the shallow levels.

Dragon cursed under his breath and ran after her. Bigger and stronger than she was, he caught up to her just in time to keep her from diving and disappearing into the ocean. Looping his thicker, muscled arms around hers, he lifted her feet out of the water and started to make his way back to shore.

Ruka fought it tooth and nail. She kicked her feet and waved her arms, demanding he let her go. He hadn't seen her struggle so much since he'd kidnapped her from Flint's ship.

Thinking of Flint made him unconsciously loosen his hold on her. Ruka took the opportunity to kick free. Her feet splashed down, and she attempted to leap away. He grabbed her arm mid-jump and held tight, his legs knee-deep in the night waves.

"LET GO OF ME!" Ruka demanded, throwing her head back to give him such an awful, uncharacteristically desperate look that he seriously considered releasing her.

He knew better.

"Stop it!" He ordered, taking a step closer. "Look how far away she is! You'll never catch her in time. Besides, I can't let you swim at night!"

"YOU DO IT THEN!" Ruka ordered, a sort of hopeful agony possessing her; Dragon saw it and flinched, the old guilt and anguish swelling so it felt like he was going to split open. "You can catch up to, her! Stop her before they—!"

"Ruka!" Kuma snapped.

Ruka ceased struggling. She slowly returned to her senses. She noticed Dragon, who rarely ever showed any real emotion in front of Kuma or Bonnie, was rigid as he let his fringe hide his eyes. That he didn't want her to see his face must have been a big hint, because she immediately turned apologetic.

She opened her mouth, closed it, looked out to Olvia's ship, then back at Dragon. Forced to acknowledge it was impossible, she let her arm drop.

An uneasy silence passed. Kuma, who alone was the only calm one at the moment, spoke up.

"Swimming after a ship we can barely see, in unfamiliar waters, at night, is a recipe for disaster."

"Then he should do it!" Bonnie shouted, advancing to the shoreline and pointing a judging finger at Dragon. "Netty wants it to!"

"Are you not listening to me?" Kuma asked, sounding oddly close to losing his temper. "It can't be done."

"Then what's the point in you?" She demanded of Dragon. "Huh, Shiroryuu?!"

" _BONNIE_!"

Ruka's scream of outrage shocked Dragon out of his bad mood. He saw her glowering threateningly at her own sister in defense of him, and though he knew better than to think this meant Ruka cared for one more than the other, it still made him feel better.

Ruka blinked, and she flashed him a content smile.

"Okay so, what can we do?" She asked, and he felt Kuma's attention return to him as Bonnie looked away, arms crossed over her chest and her jaw clenched.

Dragon considered Ruka's question, then looked up at the horizon. He could no longer see Olvia's ship, but she was surely sailing home. A home which would likely be destroyed in a matter of days.

He nodded in her direction, "Follow that ship."


	23. Chapter 22: Anguish

**Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you guys. But this chapter was incredibly difficult to write. I hope I did it justice.**

 **00000**

A World Of Difference

Chapter 22: Anguish

 _And the walls kept tumbling down_

 _In the city that we loved_

 _Great clouds rolled over the hills_

 _Bringing darkness from above_

—Pompeii by Bastille

Ruka struck a match against the wall of wooden crates. Dragon held the grimy oil lamp out to her, and she lit the unraveling wick. In the fresh light, the two pairs of weary eyes looked ancient.

Ruka pulled her hand back, lifting the light to her face and closing her lips over the flame. She blew the steam out in a low, whistling breath and flicked the match into a dark corner.

They knelt together. Dragon set the lamp on one corner of the map, callused fingers brushing over ink drawn trees. Ruka put her chin in her hands, her expression shifting from weary to blank. She traced over the map's caption—"Ohara"—with the tip of her pinky.

Boots marched overhead, the sound of which reverberated through the cargo hold. Ruka felt a tremor gather in her shoes, and she made fists with her toes.

Dragon took a moment to examine the ceiling, which was the underside of the deck. It was the marines—this was their ship after all. Their uniforms too. Ruka had swiped them.

Ruka, once again, was disguised as a man. Her long, straw-colored hair was half-stuffed into the uniform cap. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up, and she'd even applied some gender masking make-up.

Dragon was wearing the exact same uniform, without the extra touches.

After Olvia had sailed away, out of their reach and on a set course to her doomed island, it had taken all of three minutes to come up with a plan. Dragon had quickly figured the fastest and only way to get to her was to hop aboard a marine ship in disguise.

Ruka's real, female face was known to all marines thanks to her affiliation with Dragon. But her male, pirate one was a fraction more conspicuous. The latter eclipsed the former identity. Bonnie, with her vivid pink hair, and Kuma, with his hulking form, would have attracted too much attention. So they'd parted ways, with plans of rendezvousing at another island in four days' time.

Then they simply picked a ship and climbed on board. They'd stowed away in a supply closet, changed into their stolen uniforms, then ducked into the cargo hold.

It had been about ten hours since they'd left Illusia; Dragon and Ruka had spent much of that time hiding in the cargo hold. It was large, and stank of gunpowder. After opening a few boxes, they found they were full of cannonballs, rifles, and explosives.

Whatever miniscule hope they'd held that these battleships weren't for a buster call vanished then.

After securing their place in the cargo hold, Ruka had snuck out a few times to eavesdrop on the marines. Having listened to as many conversations as possible, she'd found out that the destination was Ohara, the renowned West Blue Island known for it's brilliant scholars.

Dragon was familiar with Ohara. He'd had some trouble with their archeologists over the years. Especially Clover. Throughout the years Dragon had been ordered out to spy on Clover and the other scholars for two to five day periods. These little missions, just like the one with Ruka, had always gone unexplained.

Those assignments stuck out in his mind. It wasn't as if Clover or the others had ever done anything odd, but Dragon had always had the strangest feeling… Like they knew they were being watched, but didn't do anything about it. As if they were trying to protect Dragon by letting him spy on them.

Here, now, with Ruka, as they both leaned over the map and waited with clogged throats, Dragon couldn't help imagining someone taking a bottle of ink and drowning the image of Ohara in it. To the marines and the World Government, that was all they were doing.

"Forty minutes from Ohara and closing," Someone unknowingly reported to Dragon through a Transponder Snail sitting at the edge of the map.

Ruka braced her hands against the map and looked at Dragon earnestly.

"Are we close enough now?" She asked, disturbed and concerned.

"Not yet." Dragon replied, a touch apologetic.

"Why not?" Ruka pressed with urgency.

Dragon looked her in the eye. "How long can you hold your breath?"

Ruka opened her mouth, wide, presumably to argue. She faltered, her mouth closing in a tight frown.

Dragon pointed upwards. "It's actually daytime outside. So, as soon as we jump overboard, we need to get underwater. Forty minutes of sailing is at least fifteen minutes of swimming for me. I can only hold my breath for eleven minutes. We need to wait."

Ruka practically wilted at this news.

"Your friend is an archeologist." Dragon said, leaning back to go over the map with his eyes, "So she'll be going to warn her friends first, I expect. The scholars gather in the Tree of Knowledge," Dragon tapped the image of a gigantic tree in the center of the island, "Also known as the largest library in the world."

"Tree of Knowledge? Library?" Ruka questioned, temporarily distracted.

"It's one of the oldest trees in the world." Dragon answered coolly. "It's five thousand years old. From a distance, it simply appears incredibly large. But it's hollowed out on the inside; the walls are lined with shelves. Those shelves hold books of astounding value, and some of them are even older than the tree itself."

Ruka blinked blankly at him. He worried for a minute she'd tuned him out at the mention of the word "books," but then she started to look sympathetic.

"The archeologists of Ohara have taken it upon themselves to look after the library." Dragon continued, leaning backward and crossing his legs. "It's their treasure."

Ruka spoke up, tormented thoughts twisting her tone. "But… The marines… They'll burn it, won't they?"

Dragon grimaced, then nodded sternly.

Ruka looked at the map. It was the sort of face someone made when they were forced to grit their teeth and smile even when they felt like screaming.

"Listen to me, Ruka." Dragon said, grimly serious. "I don't care what's in that library. I'll drag them out of there if I have to—there isn't a single material thing in this world worth dying for. Books are books. Lives are a different matter. So I'll go to the Tree of Knowledge to rescue the scholars and save Olvia. But I want you to find Olvia's daughter. She must be living with family somewhere—Olvia wouldn't have left her unattended."

"What about the rest of them?"

"The marines are targeting the island itself and the scholars," Dragon said reasonably. "Again, inanimate objects are our last priority. We can't save the island anyway, not as we are now. Just focus on getting to the girl."

Ruka nodded firmly.

Dragon felt an unreasonable amount of guilt. Like he'd lied to her—but he hadn't. Sengoku could be ruthless, but only to criminals. This buster call had to be on his orders. He would've ordered the guiltless civilians evacuated.

Right?

Robin and Olvia, and the scholars if he could manage it. Those were Dragon's only priorities here, along with Ruka herself.

"Dragon?" Ruka called, pulling him back. "Once we've got Olvia, her daughter, and her friends, how are we going to get them off the island?"

Dragon grimaced. "The same way we got on board."

"What, you mean disguise them?" She asked incredulously.

Dragon shrugged. "It's our only option. I can't pull a boat out of thin air. And whatever secret, underground chambers they have will either be uncovered or destroyed in the explosions; even if they're not, it isn't a good idea to hide out in them. We'd be trapped like rats during the following search and seizure."

"We're going to split up once we reach the town, right?" Ruka asked. "How will we make sure we're on the same ship when it's time to leave?"

Dragon tilted his head as he considered this. They'd been avoiding the grand line, at least until people started to let their guard down and forget their faces. So they currently didn't have vivre cards. In that case…

"Just pick one." Dragon decided, shrugging. "It'll probably be the right one. Probably."

Ruka clenched her fists, looking overly enthusiastic.

"Okay! Good plan! Let's do this!" She screamed.

"One more thing." Dragon said, earning her blank, alert attention. "Olvia's daughter. Do you even know what she looks like? The picture we have of her is too old to be much use."

At that, Ruka straightened up. Her expression became comically serious, and she clenched her fists to her chest.

"She has big cute eyes!" She said, then started ticking off more details on her fingers: "And cute black hair, and a cute, ear-to-ear grin, and she's super skinny and small, and—!"

"Stop, stop, stop." Dragon ordered, pushing his hands at her in a 'calm down' gesture. "That description is useless."

"Really?" Ruka asked, on the verge of arguing.

"Extraordinarily useless." Dragon asserted, rubbing one of his temples with stiff fingers. "I noticed she has her mother's eyes. Understand?"

"Look for a mini-Olvia?" Ruka questioned, sounding skeptical.

"Yes." Dragon replied, dismayed. Could he really trust her with this?

Yes, of course he could. She always pulled through under pressure.

"Thirty-minutes!" Reported the same speaker from before.

Dragon folded the map back up and slipped it up his sleeve. Ruka grabbed the oil lamp and lifted, holding it out in front of her as she walked them back to the exit. They travelled through an odd network of pathways, sandwiched on all sides by huge stacks of crates, until they reached a part of the large room where there was a single crate shoved up against the wall; light, outlined in the dark like a solar eclipse, revealed their exit. A perfect square which Dragon had stealthily carved himself; to his surprise, none of the marines had noticed.

Dragon knelt and pushed the single, empty cargo crate out of the way to reveal their exit. He climbed through and stepped out onto the deck, reaching a hand back inside to help Ruka through.

Thankfully, it was empty where they stood. They were taking a lot of chances for people they might not be able to save. Still, better than doing nothing.

Ruka reached back inside the cargo hold and pulled the crate back into place. They both looked around to see that no one was looking. Dragon could hear boots marching off in the distance. They were preparing to make landfall.

He held up three fingers to Ruka, giving her a look that bespoke patience and confidence. Then he stalked over to the railing, grabbed ahold, and hopped over.

He fell. Ten, fifteen, twenty feet. Wind rushed past him so fast it felt like an instant between jumping off and crashing through the sea surface.

He sank heavily, holding his breath, and then hastily swam back to the surface. His head broke water, and he inhaled through his nose. It was so humid here, even the ocean felt warm.

He tilted his head back to see Ruka gripping the iron railing. She was casting him a distressed look as two pairs of marines rushed by her, failing to notice the woman hanging from their ship or the man in the water who waited to catch her.

Dragon furrowed his brow. He ducked beneath the waves, and waited there as he watched the four marines disappear to different corners of the ship.

Once they were gone, he rose back to the surface. Ruka wasn't breathing, her face turning purple as the agitation in her eyes took on a warning hostility. He nodded, understanding, and held his arms up.

She let go, falling back-first towards the waves. He kicked, moving forward to catch her bridal-style. The weight of her drop forced them underwater, and for a few moments they just sank, their eyes locked. There, submerged by the warm, crisp ocean waters, with the bright evening sun cutting through the sea in beams, it felt as if they'd come there on vacation.

But Dragon knew better. They both did.

Once they were about four feet under, Ruka slipped out of his arms and swam around. She pressed her chest against his back and looped her arms around his neck, locking them into place.

Dragon swam back to the surface, allowing them both to take a deep breath. He hooked his arms around her knees and turned to look at her. She just nodded, fearless as always.

Dragon dived deep, and took off, rushing through the water. He was a fast swimmer, and holding his breath wasn't hard. The hard part was hearing Ruka's muffled groans as she struggled to keep her mouth shut. He wanted to swim faster, or go up for air. But he couldn't let them be seen, and he needed to preserve his strength for any possible fights.

As he made his way to shore, an awful, unpleasant thought came to him. Olvia had a daughter living on this island. She might have had friends, other children she played with. There had to be a good hundred or so children living on that island.

And yet, he was only planning on saving one of them.

He felt the drop in water pressure, and leaned back in the water so his feet touched the earth. As soon as he could stand, he ran through the water with inhuman speed, rushing through the waves and onto the shoreline. It was a relatively thin shoreline, quickly cut off by grass and forest. Dragon didn't focus on it much as he rushed into the trees, Ruka clinging to his back.

They reached the first trees and hid themselves behind a thick trunk. Dragon knelt and Ruka slid off, landing on the balls of her feet.

Neither of them said anything as they grabbed handfuls of their own clothing and twisted the water out. There was no need—nor time—to change clothes. Ohara was hot. They were half-dry already.

Hot, with a touch of wind. Dragon could hear the fires sweeping over the island already.

Dragon and Ruka linked hands and dashed off into the tangle of trees—the pressure of the battleships in the sea sailing closer with every minute. Dragon felt their presence, pulled Ruka onto his back, and took off—running faster than he ever had.

00000

"Do you hate us that much, Bonnie Read?"

Kuma's question hit the back of her head like a rock, yanking her attention away from the sand smooshed between her bare toes and the salty sea waves that soaked her feet.

Kuma—whom she'd taken to calling "Big Oaf," or "Teddy" if she was feeling generous—was standing directly behind her, casting his overbearing shadow on her, and blocking out the sun she'd been trying to enjoy.

"Get lost!" She barked, then dropped her chin onto her bent knees.

Big Oaf pressed further: "You should really come inside the cave. If a passing ship sees you, you could give away our location."

"That's what we've got the rendezvous point for, right?" Bonnie snapped, throwing her head back. "Can't you take a hint? I'm trying to get some alone time, so scram already!"

"You never answered my question." Big Oaf, subtle irritation highlighting his words so they stood out in her mind like capital letters.

Bonnie sighed in agitation through her nose. "It's not you! Just that guy; you're nothing to me."

"That was rude." Big Oaf replied curtly. "I think I'd prefer your hatred."

Bonnie ignored him. Just then, a starfish washed up on shore. Bonnie glared at it. It was useless and cute, and was sure to die without assistance. Just watching it lay there in the sand was irritating. She could just picture Netty snatching it up and hurling it off into ocean graciously.

Bonnie grabbed a piece of driftwood and poked at it spitefully.

"This is all happening because of that guy." Bonnie muttered, giving the starfish a more intense poke. "If he didn't exist, we'd be with Flint right now. Sailing off into the horizon, partying, drinking, not a care in the world."

"Does thinking that make you feel better?" Big Oaf prodded, hearing the denial in her words.

The driftwood snapped in Bonnie's hand. She glowered at her "comrade" until he spoke up:

"You know as well as I do," He said, as if to explain, "That if Dragon didn't exist, the only difference would be that some other CP0 operative would've come to get your sister that night. That person would've had no problem giving her to the Five Elder Stars. Flint still would've raided the place, this time to rescue her. The rest of CP0 would have attacked and killed you all, and Ruka likely would have lived out the rest of her short life in grief.

"So, really, how does blaming Dragon help you?"

Bonnie shot to her feet at that. She pulled her leg back, bending her knee so her foot touched the back of her thigh. Then she swung her leg forward with all her might, and kicked the starfish out into the sea. It flew a good mile before landing with a splash.

"I KNOW THAT!" Bonnie declared, whirling so her pink hair flew around her like a whip. "I know it's pointless to blame him! I don't care! On top of marrying my sister, he murdered my mother, and my friend, and lived as one of them for almost three decades! Yet you all treat him like he's some saint."

Bonnie stomped over to Kuma—she'd use his real name, she didn't care anymore—and got in his face.

"The only reason I'm still here," Bonnie stated self-righteously, "Is to ensure the survival of the only person I'm certain I love!"

"You're lying."

Bonnie recoiled, taken aback by Kuma's bluntness. He'd said the words coolly, without any real feeling, except perhaps anger.

He got to his feet, appearing dully irritated with Bonnie—not just with her words, but her whole self. It all irritated him.

"You're here because you know the only alternative is isolation." Kuma accused, and for once his voice was ice cold. "However, you know isolation might feel better than the loathing you're currently overcome with. So let me tell you this:

"Your presence here helps no one. You've even managed to harm the only person who still cares for you. Rather than staying here and clinging to the past, it would be better to start a new journey."

Bonnie's arms fell to her sides, limp, as the palms of her hands went numb. Get lost, that's what he was saying. He wanted her out of his sight. Did he think she was a threat? To Dragon and Netty? Never to Netty. Never her.

Kuma turned his back on her, and even this little action was condescending. She realized he hated her, and this was so startling it made her feel electrocuted. Kuma hated no one—except the Gorosei. But he hated her now. One of the most collected and easy going people she'd ever met was disgusted with her, and all on Dragon's behalf.

"But one more thing." Kuma said in a voice that made it clear she would not interrupt. "You should know, Ruka cannot hurt you because she loves you. Dragon is unwilling to harm you because he loves her, and looking at you makes him feel regretful. But there is nothing stopping me from hurting you, save for the fact that we are currently comrades. Remember that, Bonnie Read."

 **00000**

Ruka clung to Dragon's shoulders, her ankles crossed over his waist as he flew through the greenery in leaps. The lush flora and fauna of the Oharan forests became a blur of green. Thin, aggressive gusts shot past them, carrying bugs and dead foliage. A fly splattered against her cheek, making the skin there sting. A leaf sliced open the skin of her ankle.

She shut her eyes. There, pressed up against Dragon's back, she focused on the steady rhythm of his heart. The last time she'd seen him run this fast, it had been to escape his father.

Ruka's mouth curled back reflexively. Was Garp on one of those ships?

Vines ripped and wood snapped as they broke through the forest's edge. Sunshine flashed in warm beams over her face, and she snapped her eyes open in time to see Dragon make his way up a tall, brightly-colored building in four kicks.

They landed deftly, silently, and Ruka un-looped her ankles to slide off Dragon's back.

The rooftop was encircled by a four-foot tall edge—a short wall of sky-blue rocks cemented together like bricks. There was a trap door three feet from where they stood, and sawdust spread in a thick layer over the roof. It rubbed Ruka's bare feet unpleasantly. She realized she must have lost her boots mid-run, and felt a touch inconvenienced.

Dragon was quick to check the door. He stalked over, cautiously tugged on the handle, and sighed when he found it locked from the inside.

Ruka lifted her hand to shield her eyes. She peered up, though it wasn't hard to see, glare or no glare.

The Library of Knowledge was just as Dragon had described it. Gigantic. Thick trunk riddled with windows, foliage hanging dozens of feet overhead, long limbs stretching over the island and out to sea.

"Olvia's in there?" She asked curious, interested; Dragon stalked back.

He nodded firmly. "Yes."

"What about her daughter?" She followed-up, folding her arms to pinch her chin. "If the scholars are friends of hers, then wouldn't they be looking after her kid?"

Dragon shook his head with conviction. "Not if they were studying Poneglyphs. I know these people well enough. They're not stupid or cruel—they wouldn't endanger a child like that."

Ruka grimaced, and cast her gaze on the ocean. The battleships were closer now, and people were starting to notice them. A group of fisherman had run back to town with the news and were discussing it with a few of their peers as most others continued going about their daily routine.

"I know you wanted me to search the town," She began, before turning to face him with her hand curled over her chest, "But I don't think I have that kind of time! They'll be here in, what, minutes? Even if the town's not huge, I won't be able to track down a mini-Olvia so quickly."

Dragon shrugged, but there was something akin to sympathy in the way he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"We don't have any other options." He told her, and looked out at the library. "Unless Olvia told you something else."

She furrowed her brow and tried to think. She felt her face heat up till it burned red, felt sweat pour like rain from her hairline. Her mouth turned curvy and squiggly as she repeatedly smiled and frowned in response to almost-thinking of something only to realize it was irrelevant.

Dragon seemed to realize she was giving herself a headache. He clapped his hands on her shoulders and shook her awake. She came back, blinking and staggering, feeling both the effects head-rush and whiplash. She balled her fists and rubbed her knuckles against her temples. Dragon watched her and seemed to come to a depressing realization as he brought his hand up and buried his face in it.

Ruka noticed this and her head snapped up, a natural reflex she'd developed in the past few weeks from watching Dragon worry or agonize over this or that.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her face, shoulders, and arms falling as she spoke.

Dragon's fingers spasmed a bit, then clenched, unfurled, and ran themselves halfway through his hair. As he pulled his bangs back, Ruka saw torment flash across his features—one that bespoke familiarity, conflict, and loathing all at once.

"Sazu." He choked out, and Ruka felt like she'd swallowed a salt crystal. "I forgot—he's on one of those ships. Kuzan and Yudai as well. They all knew me—they all know I defected. But only Sazu will be able to guess that I'm here. No, he'll—he'll sense it."

Ruka nodded and blinked profusely, trying to think—albeit less intensely.

"Then we—we just need to find them and get out of here." Ruka pointed out, both desperate and confident. She tried giving Dragon a reassuring smile, but he remained rigid and lost in thought.

She leapt up, looping her arms around his broad shoulders. Her feet dangling over the ground, she tightened her arms around him and smiled against his shirt. Stupid, tacky marine uniform. She never thought she'd hate anything or anyone more than she hated the Gorosei—but seeing Dragon in a marine uniform made her blood boil.

"It'll be okay." She promised—and it would be, because she would make it be okay. "I'll find the girl. You head to the library and warn Olvia. Then get out. I don't care which ship. We still have the rendezvous point, right? Right?"

Dragon hugged her back, and she hated how he felt all stiff and frightened. Just as he had back then, in Sabaody, when they rode the Ferris Wheel.

"Dragon… About what Bonnie said, I mean, what I said back on Illusia," She started, her face flushing with shame, "That was… Well, mean. I mean, you're not invincible. Even super strong people can't do everything. So—"

She broke off as Dragon pulled her off him, set her down, and held her in front of him. His fear was gone, replaced by fervent conviction.

"Stop. It's alright." He said, and like always, she knew his apologies were sincere. "You were worried for you're friend. Besides, I appreciate the fact that you have so much faith in me."

She let his words sink in, then nodded, beaming grin stretching from one side of her face to the other.

She gave him one last tight hug, then ran off. She jumped over the roof's edge, and fell down into an alley. She ran out into the streets, and immediately felt everyone's eyes be drawn to her. Too late did she realize how strange she must have a looked—a short, scrawny, barefoot marine man, running through town with eyes that shifted endlessly.

A mini-Olvia with big, cute eyes. Somewhere on this island was someone Ruka could save.

Where was she?

 **00000**

Dragon watched Ruka disappear into the crowd, and tried to empty his mind of all the worst-case scenarios currently polluting his mind. In regards to their presence here, Ruka was not, could not, be his priority.

He shook his head. She could handle herself. Although he was pretty sure her boots were missing—all she had to do is tell anyone who might question her she'd tripped and lost them. But she was also bearing a few grass stains. Her ankle was bleeding, and her cheek was bruised in one spot just below his eye. And she was running like her life depended on it. Even from here, she looked suspicious.

He smiled, laughing through his nose. When did he become such a worry-wort?

He raised his head, putting all thoughts of Ruka aside as he focused his attention on the Library of Knowledge. He glanced at the shores, then, just in time to see a single marine ship dropping anchor. The marines on board disembarked in a frenzy, leaving a wide berth for a man in a pinstriped suit who was flanked by two other men in matching black suits. Escorts? Or, no…

Dragon burned crimson with haki . His vision zeroed in on the three men in question. The minute he saw them clearly, he shut his eyes, tilted his head back, and inhaled an uneasy breath through his nose.

Spandine, the chief of CP9. He had to be here to lead some sort of investigation. There was no other reason for just one of the many ships to anchor at the island. As for the two other men with Spandine, one of them was Laskey. Dragon had worked with them both before. Spandine was a coward, but he would see this job through. Laskey's loyalty to the World Government wasn't at the same level as Sazu's, but he wouldn't go anywhere. As for the other man with them, he was a rookie. A newb, whose profile Dragon had happened to glimpse shortly before the assignment regarding Ruka had been thrown at him.

There would be more. Dragon would bet his life that over half of the marine captains on those battleships would recognize him.

He turned and dashed away, jumping from his current rooftop to the next with ease. He closed the distance to the following edge in seconds and once again leapt to the next building. He would travel this way, roof-hopping until he could reach the Library of Knowledge.

He needed to get to Olvia before Spandine did.

Had to hurry…!

00000

Alastor stepped over the young mother's corpse, guiltless. Littered on the ground around her were the corpses of her husband and half-grown children. Oh, how they'd screamed. He could still hear their pleas for mercy ringing in his ears.

He took no pleasure in their death. Delivering unto them a swift demise was simply a means of mercy, apparent cruelty notwithstanding. He had no means of getting them off this island. Even if he had, they'd simply be hunted into extinction. Compared to observing the total destruction of their homeland and the abrupt execution of the scholars, an unexplained, immediate demise here in the family home with those they loved was much easier. Easier for Alastor. Easier for them.

It had been an unpleasant experience. First the parents, then the children. He was unlikely to forgive himself for it. And yet, it wasn't good to pretend. He'd entered this house for a reason, had believed it to be empty, then found it occupied. He'd made a spur of the moment decision, but he'd still gained something from the whole gory mess.

He approached the family table, looking over the loving meal of warm bread and stew. The food was still set, the meal hot.

He swept the dishes off with a wave of his arm, and they broke over the floor. The cauldron of stew landed upside down, so the thick broth and dumplings oozed over the wood tiles.

Alastor pulled a chair out from under the table, took a seat. He put his feet up on the table and retrieved a small, flimsy, black journal from his pocket, which he immediately cracked open.

Spread over two-pages was a clumsily drawn map of Ohara. Ada, the artist of the map and Alastor's fellow mercenary, had marked three areas with red X's which were connected by dotted lines. This was the predicted path Alastor's target would take to get off the island. It made no sense, as it was a path that led directly to the thickest cluster of marine battleships. Even if he was planning to stow away, he was supposed to be smarter than that.

Well, whatever. It didn't matter what path he took. Only that Al was worried his target would get blown up by the marines before Al could carry out his mission.

Al clapped the journal shut, both eager and impatient.

Finally. He was finally here. Finally close enough for Al to reach him, finish him.

"I'm almost there." He told his Ghost. "Almost there, Lee. Just wait a little longer. Today, that bastard dies."

In the corner of his eye, he almost saw his Ghost come into a view. A pale, transparent, imitation of his long-deceased friend, Lee.

Did that guy even remember him? No, it didn't matter.

Alastor would make him remember.

 **00000**

Dragon closed the distance between himself and the Library in no time. It was a simple matter of jumping from one rooftop to the next while keeping the Tree of Knowledge in focus.

That being said, there were several distractions. For one, the marines had finished briefing the villagers. It had caused more than a little excitement as they were first gathered up and then informed. According to them, the scholars of Ohara were "demons plotting to destroy the world." The villagers had defended their scholars, were defensive of their right to live on their island. But the marines weren't arguing.

It was pointless to argue with them anyway. They weren't the Gorosei, or the fleet admiral. They were just foot soldiers, nobody important. Messenger boys. They didn't have to force the people of Ohara to evacuate. They just had to tell them.

And so the rushed evacuation began. Belongings were swept off tables and out of drawers, into bags. Children were scooped up into loving, frantic arms or yanked out the door by their wrist. The young loaned an arm to the old and the ill. Everyone ran to the evacuation ship, screaming and crying. Dragon had activated his haki long ago, and he could feel them all. Crammed together like sardines flooding the streets as they rushed out to sea.

So when he reached the last building, and saw a crowd gathered together in front of the Library, he was unsurprised. He knew he would be too late, even as he dashed off. Still, he hated himself for his incompetence.

He focused his eyes, and they burned red with haki. His vision zeroed in on the crowds, gathered before the Tree of Knowledge, and he immediately recognized them.

Most of the group was sitting in anticipation in the grass. Dragon recognized a few of the faces. Roche, in his white lab coat, with hair that was a very close shade of Ruka's done up in a ducktail-esque hairdo. Hoche, a slim, young, blonde scholar dressed in purple. In spite of her age, she'd accompanied the leading scholar to important Archeogical councils. Clover, the aforementioned leading scholar, sat at the head of the group. Names and identities set aside, the scholars were one in thier unmoving, unyielding, defiance as they stared their captors down. A few gunmen stood over the scholars; one of them tapped the butt of his rifle impatiently.

Dragon kept himself hidden, but he wanted to rush to the scholar's side more than anything. It was just Laskey, Spandine, and few others guarding the scholars. But what they lacked in numbers, they made up for in strength.

Dragon could overtake them. But it would take time. Maybe too much time. The Buster Call would begin any minute—

Dragon's thoughts ceased, as he stifled a gasp. He saw something. No, someone. For in between Spandine and Professor Clover, who was also sitting with the crowd, there was somebody else. Someone he recognized. Someone who was so beat up and ragged, they were lying very still in the grass like something the cat had dragged in.

A wave of silver hair covered their back.

Olvia…!

This time he shot to his feet and was in the middle of hopping over the roof's edge when he noticed one of the CP9 operatives accompanying Spandine turn his way.

Dragon quickly hid himself, and concealed his presence by calming his heart and stopping his breath.

A moment passed. When he was not discovered or confronted, he released a shaken gasp. Darnit. If he just sat there, nothing would change. Still, he'd found her. Too late, but he'd found her.

Slowly, he turned, and peered out at the crowd.

Olvia was injured, though he couldn't tell how. There was no blood, she just looked real worn out. But judging by Spandine's proud sneer, he probably had something to do with it. Was that a bullet hole in his coat?

Dragon let his gaze sweep over her reluctantly to look at Professor Clover. He sat with the others, grim and brave as the rest, but with a certain air about him which commanded respect and attention even so close to death.

Beside him was a child. Dragon was immediately interested by this, because why would a child be here? This place was about to turned into a sea of flames. Children were supposed to be on the evacuation ship with their parents. Unless they didn't have parents, but—

This thought cut off almost immediately. Because it was that—the idea that the child standing near Professor Clover had no parents—that really made Dragon look at her. He saw her hair, her dark skin, her eyes. Her mother's eyes.

And then there was something else. Like familiarity, but not quite. Dragon didn't believe in reincarnation. But sometimes, he had these weird little feelings. Like whatever he was seeing, he'd seen before. Even if he knew he hadn't. I've never been here before, he would think, I've never seen this person before in my life. And yet some part of him wouldn't believe that—like he was lying to himself.

That was what looking at Olvia the first time felt like. And so it was the same with this child.

Olvia's child. Olvia's daughter was here, too. He knew it was her.

Dragon turned away, pressed his back against the wall and slid to the ground. For the first time since entering Ohara, he could breathe. He could relax. All because he'd found that girl. And he knew it was her, not her mother, which made him feel relieved. That was unfair. He should be happy to have found both of them. But…

"I know that person." Dragon muttered, even though he knew it was untrue. He was not at all surprised to find the words felt true.

He turned back to the crowd. Spandine seemed excited, and was holding a transponder snail now. Clover was getting to his feet.

I need to get closer, Dragon decided. Now that he knew they were both here, he needed to get moving. As soon as Spandine looked away, he would grab them and get them off the island. Then he could come back and warn the others. This is what he told himself.

He backed away from the edge, checked to make sure Spandine's men weren't looking at him, and jumped the next few roofs to circle around the Library. Once he was out of Spandine and the others' line of site, he took to the air with rokushiki, kicking off the wind at blinding speed.

His boots clapped against the ancient wood, followed by his hands. Again, the strangest feeling overwhelmed him. Like he'd been here before. He shook it off and scampered up the tree like a cat, quickly reaching the Tree of Knowledge's foliage. It's leaves were fairly large, and the base limbs were thicker than the towers of Mariejois.

He followed the branch out, staying hidden even as the leaves and wood thinned. Once the crowd was again within his sight, and beneath his feet, he knelt. The wind rushed up at him from below, carrying the warm scent of the island.

Again, he activated his haki. His ears strained, but with his training, he could hear fairly well.

He heard a familiar voice, and his first instinct was to wretch.

"It's unfortunate. Seeing as they've broken the law so blatantly, there's really no other option. We must enforce our own rules."

Dragon's throat burned like he'd swallowed smoldering coals. Second. It was his voice being projected from that transponder snail. So they really meant to do this. Even going so far as to make an in-voice appearance. Ohara never had a chance.

"We don't need your false sympathy, Elder Stars! Save your breath!" Clover commanded.

His tone touched a nerve with Spandine, who was quick to retort: "You're talking to the leaders of the world you damn criminal! Show some respect."

Dragon tensed. If Clover was standing up to them here in his final hour, it could only be to speak his mind. If he provoked CP9, they would attack without mercy. Olvia's daughter! Where was she?

He searched the crowd for her. She was gone. When? Where?

As he fought down his panic over the child, Second had proceeded over Spandine's antagonism to address Clover.

"That must be Professor Clover, Ohara's foremost authority on archeology. Im familiar with your work. You've contributed much to the world's cultural heritage. It's sad to see a man of your intellect go astray."

Go astray? Did he seriously just say that? Repulsive. It was the world which went astray. The world they created, eight hundred years ago.

Clover was undeterred. "The history of this planet belongs to all mankind. No matter what that history may be, you don't have the right to prevent us from learning it. No one does."

If only it were that simple. What they lacked in rights, they made up for in overwhelming force.

"If one could read the Poneglyphs, then its also possible that they can revive the ancient weapons and place the world in serious peril. Even if you have the best of intentions, somebody else could come along and use your research for evil."

Dragon stared hard at the transponder snail, willing all of his hatred towards the World Government to reach Second somehow. If he could feel what Dragon felt, what they all felt, he wouldn't speak so callously.

Still, this all proved the marines had uncovered proof of Poneglyph research after all.

Not that it mattered. The destruction of a country or two meant nothing to the Gorosei. Ohara, and what they were about to do to it, were proof of that.

Clover didn't buy into their act either. "Be it good or bad, mankind has the responsibility to accept whatever they're history may hold. As long as we don't succumb to fear and ignorance, we'll be prepared for anything that may come."

An ideal like that could change the world. Not that anyone would listen.

"That's idealistic."

Dragon's stomach twisted in disgust and he shuddered. Second's reply had echoed Dragon's own thoughts. That was not a good sign. Aside from disgust, Dragon felt overwhelmed by something akin to dejavu. Ah, of course. Hadn't Roger said he had committed himself to his final acts only because he believed in them? Roger's creation of the great pirate era had been his final act because he truly believed in what he was doing.

Clover was no different. And the rest of the scholars as well… They all looked adamant. There was no sign of regret in any of their expressions. Only righteous anger, that they were about to be killed over a history no one truly understood.

"Is it?" Clover pressured, unconvinced. "Or are you just making convenient excuses to suit your needs?"

Convenient? Convenient how…?

Dragon felt curious and disturbed. Disturbed because… Why? No, wait, he did know.

Hadn't Kuma mentioned that the fated Clan of D had some theoretical connection to the Void Century? And the scholars had been studying the Void Century.

Did they know something? About his family? His past? Maybe even the reason why he had been born as Uranus' chosen "Pilot?"

Regardless, Clover's sideways accusation seemed to have stunned Second for the time being. So Clover kept talking. He was a smart man. He knew they could silence him at any moment.

"In truth, there are two mysteries left unsolved." Clover began, and Dragon tensed in eagerness and expectancy, "Of course we want to read the Poneglyphs, but the reason why they were made in the first place is interesting as well. Why was their message so important that they had to inscribe it on unbreakable stones to pass on to the future generation? Why were they hidden and scattered throughout the world? Why were they not stored in a library? The only logical conclusion is that they feared their message would be to easily destroyed if they had written it on paper. In other words, they had an enemy. Someone who was afraid of the information they wanted to pass on.

Dragon's eyebrows jerked up as his stomach plummeted. An enemy…? And from the way Clover was looking at the transponder snail producing Second's voice, it was clear whom the Scholar's suspected as being the "enemy" of the Poneglyph's creators.

A moment of uneasy silence passed by. Then Second asked: "What're you trying to imply, Professor Clover?"

To those below he must have sounded steady, authoritative. But Dragon knew Second. That was anything but calm. In fact, if Dragon weren't mistaken, he had picked up an underlying, edgy threat. Second wanted Clover to shut up. Right now.

Clover didn't have much time left. He needed to hurry.

"Since the ancients have disappeared, we must assume that they were defeated by this enemy and that whoever they were they survived through history." Clover continued, as if reaching the climax in his little history lesson. "It may be no coincidence, but roughly 800 years in the past when the blank century came to an end, the organization we now call the world government was founded."

Dragon's hand slipped, but he caught himself by bracing his forearm against the wood. Clover was accusing the World Government of eradicating an entire culture, and erasing them from existence. The prohibition of studying the Poneglyphs, the reason they were so quick to stoop to using Propoganda and aggressive warfare against a peaceful society like Ohara… This was why.

Ruka had told him what Kuma had been like before, when she and he were on their way to Mariejois to rescue Dragon. Kuma had said something like "They have too much to hide, and they've hidden it all very well." That had rung true to Dragon, and he had readily agreed the moment he'd heard it. But to think the roots of their atrocities burrowed this deep.

Second had nothing to say. He seemed to be content to let Clover say his piece. But only because the decision had already been made.

Dragon cursed under his breath.

"Therefore if this unknown enemy was indeed the World Government, it might be in their best interest to erase this inconvenient and let the ancients dissappear into a fabricated blank century." Clover proceeded, connecting the points in Ohara's Scholars' theory.

That would be inconvenient to them, wouldn't it?

Dragon clutched the limb of the Tree of Knowledge. The wood was so stiff, so tough, even Dragon's fingers had trouble puncturing it. This same wood, this tree, would be blown to Hell in a rain of cannon fire. It would be an easy task for the Battle Ships anchored around the coast. As easy as stepping on a bug.

Dragon was suddenly overwhelmed to the point that his whole body shook. It was infuriating, appalling, that they would destroy this place. Worse, he would have to sit by and watch, powerless, as all these good, brave, brilliant people lost everything dear to them.

No. No, he would do more. He would save them. He had to. They didn't deserve to die just because Second ordered them to.

Clover kept talking:

"By analyzing ancient manuscripts ancient manuscripts and piecing together what we could from the few Poneglyphs we were able to find, we discovered the existence of a previously unknown country. Although the details are a bit scarce, we believe it was a proud and powerful kingdom. And yet, despite their strength, not a trace remains. Rather, those traces were deliberately erased.

"But they were prepared for this possibility even as they faced the threat of extinction. And so they etched their history in stone before their kingdom was crushed under the might of the allied nations now known as the World Government. Thus the reason why the Poneglyphs remain becomes quite clear."

Dragon's interest piqued. He leaned forward.

At that moment, Laskey's head whipped up, his gaze angled right in Dragon's direction.

Dragon ducked, arms locked against the limb. He had had to shut off his haki to better hide his presence, and now he was missing what Clover was saying. But he had to keep hidden. He couldn't reveal himself, not before he got to—

Olvia's daughter! He'd spotted her. She was a good distance away from Clover and the rest, partially hidden around the edge of a brick building. She must have been asked to leave by Clover. Of course, what Clover was saying here wasn't a permissible theory. Not to them. Second wouldn't allow anyone who heard these words to live.

At that thought, Dragon's face went from uncomfortable and anxious to sharp and alarming. She couldn't listen to this—She couldn't know what these people had believed. It would make her a witness, a fugitive. She had to hide—!

"I see, that's a bold hypothesis."

Second's voice rang brittle and hollow, an echo on the wind that his sharp ears picked up through determination.

Dragon moved, peeking down at the crowd with one narrowed, sweat drenched eye. Laskey had looked away, and Clover was speaking again.

"It's true that the ancient weapons would be a threat to the world. But more so than weapons, what I believe the World Government is afraid of is the mystery surrounding this lost kingdom. It's existence and its ideologies are so dangerous to you that you would kill to keep them secret!"

Spandine was a tightly contained explosion of internal rage. His jaw clenching, eyebrows twitching as he stared Clover down, disgusted and anxious, already fighting back his urge to kill Clover.

"Although we still don't know what makes you fear this kingdom we do at least know it's name." Clover said, a challenge. "Since we've gone so far already, perhaps you'd like me to share it with you now?"

The name. Dragon pushed himself up, his arms braced against the warm wood. He did not know why, but he wanted to know that name so badly it was like his life depended on it.

A moment of silent anticipation came and went in the blink of an eye. Several people sat by with bated breath, their eyes shaking. Dragon was calm. He was still. He drank in the whole bold theory, knowing, somehow, that Clover was right.

But then…

"KILL HIM!"

Dragon choked in a great gasp of air just as Spandine whipped out a sidearm. He aimed, cocked, and pulled its trigger all in one brief instant. Dragon's sharp eyes reflected the bullet as his pupils followed it, seeing the bullet embed itself in Clover's chest. Then he could hear her. Olvia's daughter was screaming.

"PROFESSOR!" She cried, as if she wanted to turn back time.

Clover fell, back clapping against the ground so hard his legs half flew up in the air.

Dragon fought back a scream of aggravation, and it escaped through his teeth, sounding very much like hissing steam. Damn them…!

In all the hysteria, Dragon could hear Second still. His voice was full of weeping. As if he regretted this.

"You left us no choice…"

Dragon's face twisted with loathing. 'No choice'? Hadn't they claimed the same when they kidnapped and tortured him for twenty-seven years? When they sent him out again, and again, and again, each time to murder someone who'd done little to nothing to offend them?

'No choice?' That was a lie.

The other scholars were cursing, leaping up from their seats, screaming in outrage.

"How dare you?!"

"No, Professor!"

Regardless, the quiet conviction which had rooted them in place before was gone now. They were done sitting in silence.

Were they going to rebel?

Spandine's gunmen raised their weapons, ordering the scholars to get back down on their knees.

Olvia's daughter had run forward now, no longer caring to hide. She cried as she raced over to Clover and fell to her knees beside him. Olvia, her mother, was laying on the ground. Dragon reactivated his haki and focused on her. There was a look in her eyes akin to the one Ruka had held back in Mariejois when she'd seen all her crew's corpses covering the ground.

Olvia clutched the grass and watched her daughter run to Clover. Meanwhile, Spandine was flamboyantly pulling something from his cloak, holding it out at arm's length. Dragon's eyes zeroed in on it, his heart caught up in trepidations.

"The Golden Transponder Snail…" Dragon uttered, fear making his mouth taste like nickel.

In Mariejois, in the leftmost corridor of the second tower, there was a locked door. Made of Adam Wood and bearing a sea stone lock, it was anyone's guess what was behind it.

Anyone save for Dragon. He'd picked the lock ages ago. It was a closet barely wide enough to raise your arms in, with transponder snails lining the walls as they slept away on shelves. In that room, about five were white, ten were red, and the rest were ordinary, varying colors. The Golden Transponder Snails weren't there—the admirals carried them on their persons. Dragon himself had never even seen one.

They were too rare. To a marine, holding one meant invincible power. Then there was the fact that a great amount of trust was required to hand over a Golden Transponder Snail.

So, Spandine was more than proud to press it right then and there, right in front of them. He laughed at Clover bleeding out in the dirt, and Olvia's daughter who was tearfully crying over him. Clover was speaking to Olvia's girl, probably telling her to run away.

She wasn't listening. She hadn't yet recognized her mother.

But it was clear Olvia had recognized her. Dragon could see it there in her eyes. Even as the other scholars noticed Spandine's actions, even as things progressed rapidly towards the impending genocide and all the obliviating grief that came with it, it was this that held Dragon's attention. Olvia looking at her child.

And it was clear to Dragon, to anyone who saw Olvia's face, that this was the most important thing to her. Her child. The one person whom she had to save.

Olvia's fingers curled, knotting up the grass in fistfuls as she dragged herself forward. Her eyes locked on her daughter, whispering her name.

Dragon ached. He'd been sitting there tense and edgy, all clenched muscles and grinding teeth. Olvia wasn't thinking about herself right now. Even her aspirations as a scholar weren't at the top of her priority list.

Her child. She wanted her child safe, no matter what.

Had… Did he dare contemplate…? Had Garp and Hestia ever looked at him like that?

A gust enveloped him, coasting over his shoulders and around his torso, filling his nostrils. He smelled it then, and his panic over the scholars curled into a tight ball at the base of his throat. Smoke. Smoke, strong and bitter. It hung in the air around him, wafted by the wind.

A cloud of smoke was rising in plumes from the base of the trunk, a portion of which was blackened and lit up with flames that danced greedily in the dry, excited winds.

It had to be the marines—their searches were brutal. When had it happened? The flames weren't too high. It must have been just before he'd reached them.

Dragon's throat constricted with agony as he looked down to see the scholars. Their unanimous concern had shifted from Clover to the library. Appalled, they turned on the marines in outrage, claiming their deaths should've been enough. They wanted their library spared?

Impossible. This one fire was just the beginning. Ohara would become an inferno.

The scholars' faces were warped by fury, and Dragon wasn't the last to notice. Spandine's men raised their guns, cocking them at the scholars for good measure. But Spandine dismissed these actions—they'd gotten what they wanted after all. There was no more need for weapons.

The scholars were already racing to the library. They used the lake at the base of the tree, scooping out pails of water and running them inside. The buckets changed hands and were thrown onto the flames. Some fought the flames while others ran outside, books stacked up to their chins. A valiant effort—but an exercise in futility.

Too painful, it was, to observe their dedication to history. Dragon turned his attention back to Olvia's daughter, who was taking tentative steps towards the Library.

"Bring that woman with you!" Spandine barked, his voice pulling in both Dragon and the girl's attention's.

Laskey stood over Olvia, reaching down to yank her to her feet. He pulled her along and they started following Spandine away from the library.

Were they taking her to a ship? If so, the he didn't know how to feel. She'd be safe from the cannons, but at their mercy.

Olvia's daughter seemed disturbed by something. Her eyes stayed on the sight of Olvia's retreating back. She blinked, thoughtfully, and stared. Likewise, Olvia cast her a desperate look.

What were they both thinking?

Nothing good.

Robin blinked, large shining eyes glistening with tears as her mouth fell open. Clover was speaking to her, begging her to run, but even he was watching Olvia. He and all the other scholars were conflicted over watching her walk away from them.

Robin half-turned, her teeth clenching as she tucked her elbows like she was about to run after Olvia.

That was a very bad idea. Dragon willed her to stay where she was.

Instead, she did something worse.

"You're my mother… Aren't you?"

Olvia's shuffling feet stopped. She lifted her head, conflicted, and risked a glance at her daughter, who waited with eager impatience for her guess to be confirmed.

Moments passed, and the girl started trembling. Her tears increased, and Dragon softened. The girl's tears accumulated and spilled down her cheeks. She raised one weak wrist to try and wipe them away.

Come back to me, she was saying. But Olvia could never do that—not anymore.

To the World Government, who believed evil lived in the blood, children of criminals were just as sinful as their parents. Blood relations were accepted death sentences these days.

"Please answer me!" The girl pleaded, needing the truth. "Are you my mom?"

Olvia's weak, battered back went rigid. She knew what she had to do.

"Hold on." Spandine spoke in an uppity, inconvenienced tone. "That girl your daughter or what?"

Dragon glowered at him. Was he concerned about his workload? Would killing an eight-year-old put his back out? Oh, how he wanted to cut his throat. He would kill him, the minute a chance arose.

Olvia placed a hand over her eyes, ashamed. "…No…"

Dragon squinted, half-curling in on himself. How could she stand to say those words?

"I'm sorry little girl." Olvia apologized, pulling her hand away. "I think you're confusing me with someone else."

Clover's shock hung like a ghastly shadow over his face. The other scholars were just as appalled. Robin was incredulous, unable to believe she was wrong.

Spandine dismissed Robin as a weird child. He continued walking, taking Olvia with him. Laskey kept his hands to himself as Olvia trudged along obediently.

"IT'S ME! IT'S ROBIN!" Robin screamed, and Olvia's shuffling feet brushed to a stop. "I've grown since the last time, so maybe you don't recognize me! Ive waited for you all these years!"

Olvia jerked as if she'd been shot.

"Are you sure?" Robin called, her gut-wrenching cries hitting Dragon like knives. "You're really not my mom?!"

Olvia fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands.

Dragon watched, one arm hugging his stomach as he shuddered;the pain from watching it was so great he could barely stand it. He lifted his free hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumb, hard, until his teeth hit bone. His eyes burned with tears unshed, and he blinked continuously, trying to keep his vision clear.

Robin sobbed openly, and took a step towards her mother.

"Just once! Someday, I wanted to hold your hand and walk together as a family!"

No…! No, Robin, don't dream that. A wish like that… Led only to heartache.

Dragon?! His father's voice rang in his head like thunder.

He shook his head, silently begging Robin to stop. Her pleas would change nothing.

"I STUDIED HARD!" Robin declared, and Dragon could hear it; this was it. Her trump card. "AND BECAME AN ARCHEOLOGIST! I CAN READ THE PONEGLYPH TOO!"

Dragon's eyes shot open as dread sank into him like tar. No…! They'd kill her for sure now. He was out of time!

"What did she say?!" Spandine asked in a demanding tone, turning to look at Robin as if she were a piranha.

"Oh, no!" Clover was shouting, panicked, unknowingly echoing Dragon's thoughts. "Stop, Robin!"

Dragon was suddenly furious with himself. How could he sit here, watching this? Why did he come here? To watch and do nothing as people died? To let Ruka down? To condemn a little girl and her mother to a tragic, brief reunion?

In the distance, he could hear cannon fire.

"So, please, look at me!" Robin begged. "Let me stay with you! Mom!"

He could save them! Why was just sitting here, observing? He needed to move, now. There was no more time.

And yet he was glued in place. His body was rigid, tense. Eager to move. Yet he could not. Why? Why, why, why?

He'd never felt so useless in his entire life. Not when he was trapped in Mariejois as a child, not when he was murdering people who did nothing but good, not even when his actions had led to the destruction of all that Ruka held dear.

In the midst of his self-loathing, he felt something else. Admiration, as well as gratitude. To her, to Robin. She really had said it.

She could read the Poneglyphs.

Bombs whistled into the sky, and Dragon raised his head in time to watch them fall towards the island.

Time. There was never enough of it.


	24. Chapter 23: Equally Guilty

Chapter 23: Equally Guilty

 _But if you close your eyes_

 _Does it almost feel like_

 _Nothing changed at all?_

 _And if you close your eyes_

 _Does it almost feel like_

 _You've been here before?_

— _Pompeii_ , by Bastille.

Bombs landed one after another in rapid succession.

Great spheres of fire and flaming ash burst to life. Waves of pure, clear heat expanded outward like a riptide. Even Dragon, still perched in the Tree of Knowledge like a great vulture, felt the heat. He saw the heat wave, greedily distorting all things south, climb halfway up the trunk in seconds.

Dragon ducked, pressed his forehead to the wood, and locked both arms in front of his skull. The heat wave came, washing over him like the rush of air that came after opening a hot oven door.

He lifted his head, and barely had time to feel the dread when two more bombs hit opposite sides of the tree. He was thrown first one way, then another. His fingertips, their knuckles braced, slid over the wood, leaving wet streaks of sweat that dried up in the sizzling air.

Another bomb hit the tree, making the whole trunk shudder. One of his arms was thrown, most of the rest of him with it. But the fingertips of his other, clenched hand broke the wood, and burrowed there.

So Dragon was yanked to a stop mid-fall, hanging hundreds of feet in the air by one arm.

He suppressed a pained groan and thrusted his free hand up, nails scraping over tough wood, and pulled himself back up.

He suppressed an internal shudder, but it came anyway as a back-quaking, throat-constricting, heart-lurching shaken gasp. He barely had two seconds to gather himself before another bomb landed on the ground, close enough to the Library to make the branches dance.

Dragon stood, trying to brace himself, but was slammed back against the trunk with enough force that he blacked out. Barely aware of himself, he slid helplessly down to sit in the spot where branch met trunk.

One arm encircled his stomach, where something that felt a lot like a bruised rib ailed him.

His vision returned, and when he raised his head, his first site was smoke. The sky was full of it.

His haki, still active, allowed him to sense the still living scholars.

"… Robin… Olvia…!" He said, thoughts of Ruka helping to get him on his feet.

He walked back out along the limb, managing to get Robin and Olvia within his sights once he was fifteen feet out.

They were holding each other. And Spandine was gone. When did that happen?

He must have run, leaving Olvia behind to die with the rest of them.

Coward.

Dragon looked at Olvia, who held her child close as they both trembled so horribly. It was like they were both on the verge of falling apart, as if the only thing still holding them together were each other.

Wait, this was his chance. The only ones still outside the library were Clover, Olvia, and Robin. CP9 was gone.

Dragon straightened up, which made the pain of his bruised rib intensify. He winced, and turned his attention to the trunk, planning on sliding down. There was no doctor among his party—best not to worsen an already serious injury.

It was then that he felt it. A jarring chill, a prickling instinct the likes of which he hadn't felt since he'd reunited with Sazu, ran over his whole body. The sensation reached his eyes, stopping and gathering there. His eyes burned red, for he'd unconsciously concentrated his haki there. Whatever had caused every last instinct he had to go on red alert, it had appeared immediately behind him.

So he looked…

… And saw…

There was a man, now, with him on that branch. Where he'd come from or how he'd gotten up the tree and so close without Dragon noticing, Dragon didn't know. But he was there.

More remarkable than his sudden entrance was the vivid intensity of this man's eyes. Dragon had never observed such fierce conviction. Even that which lit Ruka up like a comet when Dragon first met her didn't come close.

But this was different. Whatever Ruka had held against him, whatever the Gorosei had to hide, or however badly anyone on his former hit-list wanted to live, no one had ever looked at him like this.

Like they would cast him into Hell.

"Who are you?" Dragon asked, sounding far more courteous than he felt.

In answer, the young man's arm whipped up. There was a flash of light, and Dragon tilted his head back at the last second.

The man had drawn a sword—the longest sword Dragon had ever seen—seemingly out of thin air. Dragon had not seen when or where it had come into view, but it was in the man's hand now, and pointed at Dragon's throat.

Dragon's eyes scaled the blade, finding the gloved hands that clutched it, and the tiny body to which those arms belonged. He was skinnier than Ruka, and shorter, too.

Malicious, ivy-green eyes burrowed into Dragon. A tanned, scarred, and dirty face framed by midnight-blue, tousled hair. If he were not making such an expression, he would've appeared innocent.

"I asked who you were." Dragon said, stunning awe giving way to impatience. He still had not helped Robin and Olvia, both of whom were down below, very much in the line of fire.

The young man, who couldn't be too much younger than Dragon, lowered his eyes and released something that sounded suspiciously like a self-antagonizing chuckle.

"Me? I'm nobody. But forget that." He tilted his head, one eye peeking through his fringe like the harvest moon shining through a bamboo curtain. "Let's talk about you. Do you know who you are?"

Dragon couldn't help the furrowed crease between his eyebrows which developed in response. Now what sort of question was that?

"Don't think too much." The man said tauntingly, and his shoulders shook with another self-loathing laugh. "You'll bruise that false conscience of yours."

Dragon took two seconds to register and react to the man's snide comment. Then the sword he'd been staring down was pulled back, raised, and swung down like a guillotine blade.

Dragon's hand turned sleek and black, and his hand shot out to catch the blade between two fingers. He swept his gaze over the obsessively murderous face of his foe and sought out Robin on the ground.

There was someone else with them now. A giant—literally—with wild, autumn red hair that spanned the length of his back.

"Saul…!" He exclaimed in a breathless voice.

"Don't look at them, look at me!" The man ordered. He jumped then, forcing all his weight down onto the hilt. The blade slipped, astonishing Dragon, and raked itself over the pit between his fingers. He retreated a step, pulling his hand back. He held his wrist, not out of pain, but to assure himself he wasn't dreaming. His glove was ripped, and blood had soaked through, dripping onto the tree.

Dragon thought the man would be ecstatic—but no. He simply raised his sword and glowered at Dragon the way only a self-righteous child who felt overwhelmingly territorial would.

"Who—" Dragon started to ask again.

The man sliced the air with his sword. Dragon saw it coming, and leaned back just in time, feeling his wounded rib grind in protest. The flying gust buried itself in the wood of the trunk. Dragon cast the trunk a wary glance, and saw a wicked split in the wood. It still smoked from the friction.

If that had hit him…

"You're not going anywhere." The man said, holding his sword straight-up and brandishing the blade. "Get it?!"

"Hurry take her and go, Saul!"

Olvia's voice reached Dragon through the heat, smoke, flame and all the other things going on. He looked to see a screaming Robin, still reaching out to her mother, be lifted into the air on Saul's huge hands.

What was going on down there? Saul was leaving with Robin, who could only cry as she reached out to her mother. No!

"YOU MUST LIVE, ROBIN!" Olvia screamed her last wish. Her daughter's life really was all that mattered to her here.

Dragon turned his eyes on the man who blocked his path. He no longer cared for his name, nor his faction or purpose. Right now, all Dragon saw was a wall.

"Move it." He ordered, carefully aware of Robin getting further and further away from him.

The man smiled coyly, apparently satisfied with Dragon's change in attitude. What was he after?

 **00000**

The minute bombs started dropping from the sky en masse, Ruka acknowledged her failure.

Robin. That was what the adults in the village called Olvia's daughter. A few of the men had been kind enough to search for her once the evacuation began, and from them Ruka had gotten the location of Robin's home.

That house was empty, but dinner had been boiling in a pot on the stove. Out of discouragement, Ruka had raided the house. Top to bottom; every nook and cranny. Ruka searched everywhere.

Robin wasn't in that house.

Or in any of the others.

Dragon had told her to have faith in herself. So she kept running, leaving the village behind, and headed for the evacuation ship. The villagers had left a trail of stampeding footprints for her to follow, so even with the smoke clogging the air and stinging her eyes she could still tell where she was going.

In the back of her mind, urgent thoughts circulated. All of them about Dragon. Where was he? Had he found Olvia?

Ruka felt mud squish between her bare toes, and looked down. She'd tread into a muggy creek; it was mostly mud, but the shallow surface of water looked promising.

Ruka yanked the blue scarf from where it was tied around her neck, and carefully soaked it in the water. Taking the now soaked scarf, she tied it over her mouth and nose, then continued her run.

As soon as her feet touched dry surface, another bomb landed close by. Ruka was thrown back into the murk by the impact. Her head half-sank into the mud, and she clumsily scrambled to pull her arms and legs free, slipping and crawling out of the creek, and looked around curiously.

If that was a bomb, where was the fire?

Her eyes scanned the fog, and saw a long gap in the mist. Then she noticed what she was sitting in: a giant footprint, large enough to hold fifteen or twenty of her.

She gasped, and mistakenly inhaled some fog. Coughing into her elbow, she got to her feet with difficulty. It was the ground—between the bombs and the giant running around, it felt like the whole earth were trembling.

Ruka ran with everything she had in her. As for what propelled her forward in spite of everything, it was a hunch. She had a strong gut feeling that Robin was at the end of this trail.

And after a moment of sprinting, her suspicions were confirmed by a single voice. Child-like, weeping and full of despair. The voice of someone who'd lost everything.

"Please, Saul! You have to take me back!"

The giant, apparently called Saul, was within sight. Ruka couldn't get too close, or she risked getting thrown into something a lot less soft. But she saw that his arms were pulled forward, as if he were holding something.

"I can't, there's no way!"

Ruka looked around for something to climb. There were some sparse trees and buildings, but they were too far away and too weak for climbing. Dammit. How was she supposed to get their attention?

"ROBIN!" She called, scream scraping her seething throat raw.

But her scream was drowned out by all that was going on. Bombs, tremors, cannon fire, the running march of Saul, even Robin's own sobs. Ruka could've screamed all day. No one was going to hear her. Between the smoke and how preoccupied Robin and Saul were, no one would notice her.

Ruka blinked back tears. Was it really so hopeless? What could she do?

"Don't cry, Robin!" Saul said, and Ruka was stunned; for a second, she thought he was speaking to her. "But be proud! Your momma's a wonderful woman! Ohara's a wonderful place! You gotta remember that! It's up to you to pass it on, okay?! Ohara was so brave they fought against the whole world!"

Ruka nodded, and raised one clenched fist to dry her eyes. Right, she wouldn't give up. Dragon, Saul, and Olvia were all fighting with their lives on the line. She would never give up.

She pushed herself, running three times faster than she ever thought she could. As she got closer to Saul, she alternated between jumps and leaps, dodging the tremors that rippled through the ground. She had a plan—as soon as she was close enough, she would jump on and cling to the back of Saul's leg. She'd climb up his back, onto his shoulder, and drop into his cupped hands.

She was close—close enough to jump, right— _NOW!_

She bent her knees, and sprung into the air. She missed Saul's foot, raised mid-step, by a hair. She started to fall, towards his lower leg and raised her arms, preparing to grab and hold on for dear life.

Just then, something rushed up behind her. She could use her haki now, to the point that it elevated her sixth sense a bit. Whatever it was, it cut through the air at incredible speed, was accompanied by the drawn-out, echoed ring of chain links, and was not alive.

It was also going to kill her, if she let it. She could dodge, and let it impale Saul, or try and stop it.

She chose the latter.

Throwing her leg out, she braced the toes of her foot against Saul's lower leg, and spun around. She clenched both fists and brought them together, like a fist-bump, to slam her knuckles into the sides of the weapon.

It was not a flat blade, as she'd predicted. It was a harpoon, with a polished, sharp, cork-screw shaped tip. She gasped, unclenched her fists at the last second, and grabbed the wooden rod behind the tip.

Wood scraped against her palms, embedding them with splinters. The tip touched her chest, cutting her shirt and poking her in the chest. If it went any further, it would pierce her heart and kill her. No, no!

She tightened her grip on the rod, but it slipped further. She thought she was dead until she felt the chain be yanked back, taking Ruka with it. She held onto the rod, needing to know who'd tried to kill her, and injure Saul. Whoever controlled the weapon was strong; strong enough to throw it, and yank back a full-grown woman.

Ruka passed through a puff of smoke that clogged her lungs and blinded her. Feeling like a fish on a hook, she lost her grip and took a tumble, rolling over grass and rubble until coming to a stop.

She felt the heat eat up her shoulder and rolled away, right into a rock. One raw, splintered hand came up to pat the flames out. Her vision cleared and she pushed herself up to her knees, got on her feet, and started turning around and around as she blew cool air into her injured hands. Wide eyes scanned the smoke as blood and heat burned her palms. She felt like she'd been turning around for hours when a silhouette appeared in the gray fog, a few meters away from where she stood.

Ruka froze, focusing on the figure. Whoever she was, she walked with the scary sort of grace only assassins had—Ruka would know.

The foreign woman, with her crimson red hair that flew about like a flame, had her hands full. One held a long, heavy chain that was wrapped around her fingers and up her arm like a snake. The other held the harpoon, attached to the chain, and it was pointed right at Ruka.

Ruka lowered her shaking hands, as the memory of pain left her eyes, and was swiftly replaced with a silent challenge.

"Who are you?!" She demanded.

The woman breathed haughtily through her nose. "You… You're not a marine, are you? Not a marine, and yet in uniform… Who are you, really? Why were you following that giant?"

Ruka crouched. She would have to fight. She needed to end this quickly, and catch up with Saul.

"Oh, I get it." The woman said, and she seemed to soften up, either from pity or empathy. "You're helping that man. He wants to rescue someone on this island, right?"

Ruka's arms nearly fell, but she whipped her head up instinctively. How… Did she… Know…?

"You're making a mistake." The woman said, flat and condescending. "Trust me. That guy is bad news. You'll be dead in no time, if you side with him."

Ruka caught the threat. "What did you say?"

The woman disappeared and reappeared in an instant, right in Ruka's face. Ruka leaned back, eyes wide and knowing.

She could match Dragon's speed. What…?

The woman took a swipe at her with the harpoon, but Ruka ducked and thrust the flat of her palm up into the air. Her hand caught the woman's jaw, and she moved her hand over the woman's mouth, getting her fingers around her jaw, and clutched.

The woman dropped her weapon and slapped Ruka's hand away.

They stood there for a moment, staring each other down.

Then the woman took a deep breath and raised one hand, spreading her fingers as if to wave. Instead, she pulled one black glove off by the tip of her middle finger, then did the same with the other glove.

Ruka made a face at her movements. What was so impressive? "The gloves are off," was that what she was trying to say? Whatever.

Anyone who went after Dragon was Ruka's enemy.

"I know your background, Ruka." She said, eyes shut as she flexed her fingers, then slowly lowered her arms to turn her hands over. "You aren't our target—so I won't kill you. Just answer me this—"

The woman spread her fingers, flashing her palms at Ruka.

Ruka shook with a jolt. Whoa, she thought, what's with her hands?

"If you could take a vacation—" She asked, smiling in a way that was frightening, "—Where is it you would like to go?"

 **00000**

Dragon's legs gave out, but he caught himself before he could fall to his knees. Warped gusts of heat, ash, and wind washed over the inlet surrounding the Oharan library. Walls of fire were coaxed into the air and over the land by the dry climate and the high winds.

Against the fire, the Tree of Knowledge stood like a great shadow. Some of its outer foliage was already blazing, but the trunk itself was safe for now. Books poured out a broken window, falling into the lake like a waterfall.

This was how he knew Olvia was still alive.

But standing between him and Olvia, again, was the young man whose eyes had taken on a fatal insanity. He, too, was running out of energy. Whoever he was, whatever he called himself, he could match Dragon's speed. Meet it, and in an instant, turn it against him. Dragon's brutal strength was still his own, but this man made it seem practically irrelevant.

But now…

Dragon was bruised and worn down; the smoke and fire limited his senses. He'd been holding his breath for six minutes now, and he had five minutes left. But this meant no smell. And that man's smell was a suspicious mixture of chemicals and herbs, which would've made sneaking up on Dragon impossible for him.

His eyes burned from smoke, and strained from haki-induced focus. But he could move. Dragon still had copious reserves of energy and stamina—he would fight for hours, even days, if he had to. Not that they had days, but still.

The other one wasn't so lucky.

He was on his knees, gripping his sword hilt for dear life, with the blade stuck in the ground like a crutch. Blood had fallen everywhere in drops from all his leaping around, and now he was just sitting there, bleeding all over himself from multiple wounds. His eyes were glazed over, focused on something distant.

He had hardly cared for his wounds. Every time Dragon had landed a hit, he had continued to leave them exposed in battle. That was too careless for someone so strong. It left Dragon with one conclusion: this man didn't care if he died here. But he seemed intent on taking Dragon with him.

"Give up!" Dragon barked, eyes shifting to the library for a moment. "I don't have time for this. Quit getting in my way."

The man laughed, with bright blood leaking out between his teeth to trail down his chin. He flashed Dragon a look of loathing.

"You should give up." He remarked, shaking his head at Dragon. "Trust me. No one wants to owe their life to you."

Ruka flashed through his mind at that.

Dragon charged, closing the distance between him and his foe in the blink of an eye. He raised one foot, slamming the heel of his shoe into the man's jaw. He felt it crack and unhinge, and saw the man fall like dead cattle to the ground.

Dragon waited for the man to get up. He had gotten up after all previous attacks. Even now, unconscious, his hateful sneer didn't vanish. As if the intolerable hatred of Dragon was all he knew.

Something akin to familiarity pooled in Dragon's chest, but there was no time to linger over it. He stepped over the man and ran to the tree. At the same time, some ground fire travelled over the ground, eating up the grass, and entered the trunk through the hole the marines had created.

 **00000**

Ruka stared at the woman's hands with blank-faced amazement.

Paw-pads. Like on a cat. Or a puppy.

"How do you feel about my ability?" She asked Ruka. "I ate the Nikyu-Nikyu no mi. I'm a Paw woman, now. I—"

Ruka threw her arm up to point at the woman. She opened her mouth and burst out laughing.

The woman's mouth fell open in either horror or surprise.

"A paw woman?! That's crazy! Who'd fear that?!" Ruka asked in between chuckles, and wrapped her arms over her belly as she fell back. Laughter rippled through in waves, and she thought she'd explode from all the fun she was having.

"Don't make jokes at my expense!" The woman ordered, red-faced and embarrassed. "Hey, get up! We're fighting here! Oy, listen to me Ruka!"

Ruka flinched, because that tone made this stranger sound so much like Olvia. That was something Olvia had said a lot—"Listen to me, Ruka, please."—and Ruka's thoughts immediately went to Robin and Saul, whom she had lost in the smoke.

She hopped to her feet and looked this way and that, in search of the girl. Where had she gone?

"Where'd Robin go?" She asked, then glared at the woman. "You distracted me! I lost them!"

"Give it up." The woman said, folding her hands over her chest. "Sakazuki isn't going to let anyone off this island."

Ruka caught that—that wording—and went pale as a sheet.

"Anyone? What do you mean, anyone?" Ruka asked, remembering Dragon's words on the ship. _The marines are targeting the island itself and the scholars_. "The marines are just after the scholars and the island. The civilians are being evacuated. I saw them evacuate!"

The woman stared back point-blank, with just a touch of sympathy in her eyes. It was the same expression Dragon made whenever he had hard news to tell, news he knew would destroy her, and someone had to be strong in moments like those so it was always him. Like when she asked him when she could steal back the Red Throne. And then he had looked at her like that, and she knew. They'd burned it. Slaughtered her crew and burned her ship.

Sakazuki was here. Dragon knew him, and had described him in detail. Paranoid and ruthless, that was how he had described him. There was no line that man wouldn't cross. No dirty tactic he wouldn't use.

Saul had been carrying Robin to the evacuation ship—he must have been. It was the only safe place, or the only place presumed safe.

Robin was on the evacuation ship.

Sakazuki was here.

No, no, no.

"No!" Ruka screamed, then turned and ran. As if her life depended on it. She followed the smell of the sea, a scent she knew by heart, and ran.

"Ruka, don't!" The woman called, as if she wanted to protect Ruka. "You can't save them! You'll die!"

She ignored her. Ruka had to get to that ship—to warn them. That ship was nothing but false hope! A death trap! Sakazuki…!

Sakazuki was going to kill them all! Robin, too!

"ROBIN!" She screamed, hoping her voice would reach the child somehow. "GET OFF THAT SHIP!"

 **00000**

Dragon entered the library through the burning doorway. The door was gone, probably kicked in and destroyed by the marines who'd raided the Tree of Knowledge in search of evidence they'd known they would find.

He stumbled in, blood soaked hand gripping the barren doorframe. Red eyes swept over the scholars, who were hurriedly sweeping books off shelves into resolute arms, tripping in their rush to reach the busted window overlooking the lake.

Between Dragon and the brave ones was a wall of fire, mostly sapphire blue and three times Dragon's height. He leaned against the library's inner wall as he considered what to do about it. In his weakened state, he could jump through it, but even if he was fine Olvia wouldn't be.

His mouth opened, breathing in great gasping lungful's of smoke that scorched his throat and dried his mouth out. Eleven minutes had passed. Damn.

"WHAT THE—?!" One of the scholars exclaimed, having stopped on the other side of the wall of fire to look at Dragon. "There's a person here!"

In one precious second, they all stopped to look at him. Dragon raised his head to look at them, too, and found Olvia near the back of the crowd. Her eyes trembled as she took him in, evidently seeing something familiar in him. But that was possible… He had never monitored her, like some of the others. He had never seen her before in his life.

Dragon braced his good hand against the wall. It was oaky, and hot—like a furnace—and if that weren't bad enough, the scholars were already completely trapped by the flames save for the broken window.

He gulped down the pain in his throat and stood, bracing himself to rush through the flames. He would throw them out that broken window, if he had to. Or he would just make another exit. It wouldn't be hard.

He bent his legs and arms, and took another deep breath as he eyed the wall. His legs jerked forward, carrying him right to the wall of fire, and he was on the verge of taking another great leap to reach the scholars when—

"STOP!"

Her order reached him. It was Olvia, she had fought her way through the crowd so that she could stand directly on the other side of the wall of fire. She looked agitated, even furious. Dragon didn't understand why until she threw her arm up to point out the window.

"It isn't safe here, leave!" She ordered.

Dragon brought his feet together, showing her he wasn't going anywhere.

"Don't give me that!" She spat, unwilling to accept him. "I know who you are! Ruka sent you didn't she, Dragon?"

Dragon's face went blank, and then his eyes narrowed.

"How did you know?" He asked. It was a fair question.

"Everyone knows who you are." Olvia answered flatly. "I've seen the wanted posters. That tattoo is new, though, isn't it? Ruka had the same design on her ring finger."

Dragon opened his mouth, possibly to tell her she was crazy. Or to agree and order her to step back so he could rush in and save them. Or maybe just to ask her not to announce a connection between him and Ruka in front of all these people whom he was already too fond of to watch die.

But before he could say anything, a flaming banister fell from the Library's ceiling. Dragon cursed under his breath and sidestepped, turning away as the wood crashed with a mighty thud to send splinters and sparks into the air.

"Get out of here!" Olvia repeated, more forceful. "I have no intention of leaving with you! I won't abandon the Library or my colleagues."

That set Dragon's teeth on edge. His face warped with anger and he glowered back at her.

"I'm not asking you to!" He told Olvia before speaking up to get the others' attention. "All of you need to leave now! You've saved enough books, now get moving! If you ever want to make any of this worth the sacrifice then you need to survive!"

"And how do you suggest we do that?"

Dragon turned his head. It was Clover, still bleeding from his bullet wound. He was older and slower than the others, and looked more exhausted than anyone else. But his resolve was clear, adamant, unmoving. Just the same as the rest.

"You're only one man, and you're already injured." He pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've worn yourself down. Even if you still have it in you to escort all of us to safety, where are we supposed to go? Aboard a marine ship? I can see the ocean from that window," Clover looked out the broken pane, "And all the marine ships have already pulled back out to sea. The whole island is engulfed in flames, by now. We could hide in the lake but it's already full of books—and we'd be discovered soon after."

Dragon grit his teeth. He was right. Dammit, he was right.

"At least you, then." He said to Olvia, whose adamant expression didn't change. "Come with me! For Robin! For Ruka!"

Olvia hesitated, then slowly smiled. It was a warm, tragic smile. Full of fondness and anguish.

"I can't." She answered, as if he knew why.

And he did. But that didn't mean she had to die.

Dragon took a step closer to the flames, even though their heat was practically unbearable.

"Yes, you can!" He shouted, heart racing in his chest as if he'd just ran a thousand miles. "Don't do this to yourself! You people! You're all seriously doing this?! If you die here, if you do this, then they win!"

"They've already won this battle." Clover told Dragon grievously, but his eyes sharpened and his tone turned menacing. "But we will win the war."

"What war?" He asked, though that sounded familiar.

"The only war that matters." Olvia answered, and dropped her gaze in disappointment. "Besides, you knew, didn't you? If Ruka sent you here, then she must've known, too. You two… Thank you for trying… But you cannot save anyone here."

Dragon was appalled. She didn't just say that. She couldn't have.

"You wouldn't risk your life for a lost cause," Olvia accused, and looked him in the eye, "You must've had other reasons. Information you need or want. But we've already told all we know."

"No, you haven't." Dragon said, unable to stop himself. "The name of the ancient Kingdom… You almost said it before… What was it? Tell me! I'll carry it forward for you!"

He could at least do that much. Everything he'd heard from Clover, the hypothesis of Ohara regarding the Void Century, he could tell his comrades. He could keep that theory alive, and use it to find answers.

"That is not your task." Olvia said, shaking her head no. "It is Robin's. Robin will keep Ohara alive. We will survive within her."

Dragon clenched his fists. 'Robin's task,' she said? 'Leave it in Robin's hands,' she said? No. He couldn't accept that. It made him feel sick.

"Don't do this to her." He begged, and this was it. His last chance. He could feel the way out closing. If he couldn't convince her now, he'd be trapped here with them. "She's your daughter. She's only eight. They won't spare her because she's a child. They'll eat her alive. Don't pin all your hopes and dreams on a girl and send her out to face the world alone. It won't work!"

Olvia smirked then, overconfident and all-knowing.

"Yes. It will." She said. "She's not just a child… She's my daughter. She will survive. She will make it to a safe place. And one day, she will reveal the truth to the world."

Dragon grit his teeth and squared his shoulders. This… Was really happening. He couldn't save her—not Olvia, not any of them. They wouldn't let them. They were convinced a bunch of scrap paper meant more than their lives.

 _They were all going to die. He had to run now, so he could live and see Ruka again. He'd failed her. Again._

His arms clenched. His vision shook and warped as hot tears were driven to the corner of his eyes by a deep, self-loathing. Tears that pooled and spilled over. He couldn't save them. _Couldn't save them. Couldn't save them. Couldn't—_

"Dragon." Olvia called, pulling him out of that, back to Ohara. The fires, the smoke. "Dragon, this is not your fault. Tell Ruka that. Tell her this is not any of your fault."

What was he doing, crying in front of them? Ridiculous. He dried his eyes hurriedly.

"We've been prepared for this since the beginning." Clover promised, as he looked up at the torched ceiling. "Nobody can save us. We'll go down in history as greedy scientists who endangered the world just to know a secret history no one else wants to know."

"But Robin will survive this, and she knows the truth." Olvia said, smiling proudly to herself. She looked at Dragon then. "If you can, find her. Protect her from them. Please."

 _No more time,_ Dragon thought as he looked around the tree. It was entirely consumed by flames at this point. Only his exit and the window were still good, and they were about to crumble in.

He turned to face Olvia, letting her see his own resolve.

"Robin will be safe." He told her, then turned on his heel and ran for the exit. "I PROMISE!"

He made it through the scorched doorway just in time. A second after he left, the wall with the doorframe caved in and became a pile of burned wood.

For a moment he stood, staring at the destroyed doorway. Until something struck him in the heart—Fear? Panic? Wariness?—and he whirled to see the empty ground of the inlet. It was quickly being consumed by the fire, but he could still see the shadows of what had been caught in the flames: fallen tree limbs, rubble, boulders. This was how he knew.

That man. He was gone. How, why or where to, Dragon didn't know. But gone he was.

A cannonball fell from the sky then, falling right in front of Dragon. His eyes noticed it, keeping it in his line of sight as he raised his arm, then batted the cannonball away with the back of his wrist. It flew far, smacking into a fiery building at the edge of the inlet.

He ran, navigating his way back to shore by travelling through narrow, infrequent openings in the fires. He'd shut his brain off, because if he stopped to think about what he'd just done it would kill him. And because part of him couldn't believe what he'd done either.

But once he was far enough away, he couldn't help himself. In the middle of the burning town, he turned around, laying his eyes on the tree. It was entirely engulfed in flames by now, like the world's largest torch. Even though it hadn't fallen yet, Dragon could hear the wood splitting from here.

He turned his back on the library and kept running.

 **00000**

Ruka reached the edge of the smoke and skidded to a halt. Bent-over, shaking hands clutching trembling knees, muscles in her rigid back clenching painfully. Bright eyes in a ghostly pale but burnt face zipped around until they found the evacuation ship.

There. It wasn't far, yet. Directly in front of her, a few feet out to sea. They must've just raised anchor, because it was still within swimming distance.

She stood up, mouth agape, eyes softening with renewed hope. She moved then, sliding down a grassy hill and leaped into the water. Strong arms circled over her head, into water, as stronger legs kicked with great speed. She got close, so close. _Robin…!_

Bright, white-hot, seething heat washed over her. An unnatural, angry force like wind knocked her into the air and threw her back to the island. She flew back, through fire, skidded painfully over the grass, into a sandy little pit barely wide enough for her back to fit into.

Her eyes watered. Not tears. But the moistness built up over the rims of her eyelids and ran down her cheeks. She could only think, "Ow," and even that was dull. A half-thought in a barely-conscious mind. Her face, she realized. It burned. Was it still there? Her thoughts trailed to Dragon, at that, and she became a little afraid. She needed her face, at least.

Who else would smile for him?

Gloved hands touched her neck, her hair, her face. _Ow, ow, ow,_ she wanted to say. _Will you stop touching me? It hurts, dammit._

"I told you so." Said a woman's voice, and it was so far, so muted and echoed, that Ruka realized her ears were barely picking up any sound.

 _Not my ears, either._ She begged, bloody fingers curling, pulling grass blades into burned palms. _I need to listen to him. I need to hear his voice…!_

"This isn't good." Said another voice, a man's.

 _Dragon?_ She thought groggily, slowly-but-surely coming back to herself. _Dragon, I'm sorry. Olvia. Olvia, Robin is…!_

If she was on that ship, then…

Ruka concentrated all her remaining strength in her first as she tried, and failed, to keep the tears back.

"She's crying now." The man said, sighing in aggravation. "I can't kill an injured woman. Not even if she's his."

"Neither can I." Agreed the woman. The paw-pad woman. It was her.

Ruka's eyes widened and trailed up. Her vision was so cloudy, like she had cataracts. Could you get cataracts from an explosion? She didn't know. But she couldn't see a thing, just two fuzzy silhouettes, one of which had the paw-pad woman's red hair.

 _Dragon._ She thought, image of his back flashing in her mind's eye. _They're after Dragon._

"I don't know if you can hear me," Said the paw-pad woman, and it was clear she was speaking to Ruka. "But I meant what I said before. That man is a monster. He murdered a friend of ours."

Ruka stared right at the woman, silent and knowing.

"You're not surprised?" The woman asked, and there was an edge to her voice. Disappointment? Fear? Fury?

"I suppose you wouldn't be." The woman quipped, full of attitude. But it was false bravado, meant to cover up something else. Probably grief.

Ruka would know.

"We aren't going to kill you when you're in this pathetic state." The woman told her, and Ruka's lips pulled back to reveal clenched, bloodied teeth. "But, that's good. I've no idea where your companions are, or who they are, but tell them this when you see them again."

The woman lowered her head then, and spoke right into Ruka's ears.

"That man is our enemy." She hissed, and Ruka knew she referred to Dragon. "We aren't going to stop until he's rotten on the outside, just like he is on the inside."

Ruka found her strength then. Her arm, as if possessed, latched up. Skinned fingers wrapped themselves around the woman's throat, grasping them with such strength. She was choking, the woman was choking. She had to die. Dragon, Dragon, Dragon.

 _You don't know him,_ she wanted to say. _Not one thing._

The man grabbed her wrist and twisted. Ruka made a pathetic, awkward noise. Like a dog who'd been kicked and shot at the same time.

The woman coughed to clear her throat, then spoke again.

"You never answered my question." She said, sounding inconvenienced. "So, I'll have to make a guess. I don't know exactly where you'll end up, but stay out of our way. If you find that man again, even after all this, I won't show you any mercy."

The woman raised her hands so Ruka could see them, and then removed something thin and black. Gloves. She was taking her gloves off again.

"Three days, three nights." The woman said conversationally. "Enjoy the trip."

"Farewell."

Fear dropped into her stomach like a hot boulder. _Move_ , she pleaded of her broken, burned body, _Move now! You must move!_

But she couldn't. Not now, not with those injuries. It wasn't impossible.

So, she settled for glowering, doing her best to imitate Dragon's eyes from before. The loathsome, murderous, furious eyes of an assassin. She focused her gaze on the redhaired woman whose expression was a mystery. But Ruka imagined she looked vindicated, condescending, and that helped to strengthen Ruka's death stare.

Then she felt something soft bop against her skull.

Suddenly she was in the air, soaring through the sky. She saw stars and dark clouds overhead, and something that she guessed was water below.

What was happening?

Where was she off to?

Then it came to her that she had left Dragon behind on a burning island. On top of that, she'd just seen a boatload of innocent people get blown up for no reason. And her friend, Olvia. What had happened to her?

Part of her believed without a doubt Dragon had gotten to her. But if Robin was on the evacuation ship, then…

Ruka couldn't help it—tears ran down her cheeks, stinging her burn wounds.

She couldn't even save one girl. Her friend's daughter. She would make Dragon worry over her.

What was the point in her?

 **00000**

The path to shore, a narrow trail between two fields of fire, was thinning before his eyes. Weak, tired, and guilty, Dragon was slow. Slower than he had been earlier, when he swam and then ran with Ruka on his back. Slower than when he'd left Olvia behind.

One side of the flames reached out, touching his arm. His skin burned, and he was quick to tear his sleeve off before the fire could spread up his arm.

He pushed himself to run faster. In a moment that felt like a year, he reached a cliffs edge overlooking the sea. Behind him, the two fields of fire converged into one, and exploded out at Dragon.

His face constricted with fear as he leaned back, then turned and leapt off the cliff. He dove down into the sea, reveling in the feel of the cool water on his burned skin.

Once he was a decent three feet below the water surface, he stopped and looked up. The fires had eaten up the island and were being coaxed out to sea by the wind. Broken wood and other debris burned and floated in the water surrounding the island.

 _Ruka,_ Dragon thought and looked around. He saw the bottom of a nearby marine ship and started swimming towards it. Something told him Ruka wasn't on that one, but it would be okay. There were plenty of others.

Olvia. He'd left her behind. If she wasn't dead yet, she would be soon. She'd sent him away herself. There'd been a wall of fire between them. It didn't matter—excuses, apologies, reasoning. None of that made her any less dead. He wasn't any less a failure, nor Robin any less of an orphan.

He swam to the ship, briefly looked around for anyone who might see him, then started climbing up the wood to the deck. He made it to the top, and sure enough, all sailors were at the front of the deck. They were watching the island burn. He caught snide remarks, proud comments. All of them involving "the demons of Ohara."

Dragon was quick. He snuck onto the deck, swept across the deck like a shadow, and ducked behind the closest door.

He'd found a washroom. It held four conjoined stalls, all lined up over a floor of freshly waxed wood. Porcelain sinks under freshly polished mirrors. The only thing amiss was the smell of gunpowder—it had sunk through the walls, and was trapped in here.

Dragon ducked into the stall at the end and flipped the lock into place. Hung up on a towel rod beside the cheap little shower was a fresh marine uniform—left there by whomever had cleaned the washroom last.

Dragon changed quickly, then stashed the old uniform in a fresh trash bag and dropped it inside the toilet tank. Someone would find it eventually, but he'd be gone by then. Hopefully.

He slipped out the bathroom then, keeping his hat in place and his head down as he made his way to the rear of the ship. He still didn't know who was on this boat, and if it came down to it he may have to jump off and swim for his life.

He wouldn't be able to conceal himself from Sazu. Not now. Not if they were on the same boat.

As he went over the possible scenarios, each involving a former colleague, two young marines passed him by. They were both scrawny, proud men, each with a gun strapped over their back. They were chatting in excitement.

"You're crazy." One said to the other.

"No, really!" The other insisted. "I saw it with my own two eyes. A woman, maybe one of the scholars! She tried to swim to the evacuation ship! But the minute Vice-Admiral Sakazuki decided to blow it up, he ended up blowing her away too!"

Dragon almost stopped dead in his tracks. The evacuation ship was blown up? By Sazu?

Something stopped him from being surprised. Only the importance of his current circumstances kept him from marching off to find and murder Sazu. But something else seemed more important—who were they talking about? All the scholars were in the library, trapped by fire. None of them were willing to leave. He knew that.

So, who had tried to swim to the evacuation ship? A citizen, left behind? A stray marine?

"Oh, yeah? Then what did this mystery female scholar look like?" The skeptical one asked.

"Well, it was hard to tell." The insistent one said. "Our ship is anchored pretty far away from where the evacuation ship was. I just caught a glimpse of it through the telescope. A woman, in blue and white, got blasted out of the water by the cannon's impact! I saw her be thrown back onto the island!"

"Blue and white? Wait, maybe you saw one of ours!" The skeptical one said, now sounding frantic.

The insistent one's face fell. "Well, even if that's true, there's no way we can go back for them. The island's a bonfire now."

"No…" His friend said.

Dragon froze. All the color drained from his face. A gripping pain took over his chest, like a punch to the heart. The pain was so intense, it forced a grunt of agony from his mouth. He felt the eyes of the two young marines on him, but he couldn't help it and collapsed against the wall as his hands came up to grip his chest. His heart… His heart had stopped… Literally, stopped, because it had to.

Heat rushed up from his stomach, turned to acid in his mouth. Blood burned in his cheeks, his forehead and neck. Tears, he wanted to cry—but, no he couldn't, not here!

He ran for it. They stared, and he prayed they would write it off as grief for the "lost marine."

He raced around deck until he found another door and opened it, stumbled inside. His legs barely worked, his heart restarted only to break out in painful, uneven palpitating beats. He took one second to verify that this room was not one people would normally run into—a supply closet, good—then walked away from the door in off, tripping footsteps until he fell to his hands and knees.

His mouth tore open, desperately heaving chest trying to suck in air—breathe, he needed to breathe—only to fail. Like someone had a grip on his lungs and would not go.

That was not a marine who'd been thrown back to the burning island. They thought she was a marine, but he knew.

Ruka. They were talking about Ruka.

 **00000**

 ** _Three days and three nights later…_**

Ruka slept as she flew across the sky. There was nothing else to do but worry endlessly over everything, and she'd learned from Dragon how agonizing that was. So, she slept, instead, and dreamt.

Her dreams were a bad mix of recurring nightmare and agonizing memories. Interrupted frequently by horror-induced jolts, the dreams changed just as frequently.

Dead friends lying in bloody pieces in the dirt, like chopped up earthworms. The warm hands of a good friend running their fingers through familiar pink hair. Friends whipped like dogs and shoved into cages, wearing exploding collars as they sailed off into the horizon to a beautiful, ugly palace. A weak woman, her hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, laughing with scared eyes and bruised hands repeating bad words: "Perfect little ladies, perfect little girls." One broad shouldered man walking up to Ruka and throwing a baby at her feet. She looked up, "Stop! Stop! Come back and get her!" But he walked and walked, always too far away to hear her. She tried to run, but her legs were gone. So, she clawed the ground, dragged herself forward, reached out to him, "STOP! COME BACK!"

And he heard her. But his back was different now, and his _eyes_ , hard set and sad and lacking all hope. All fight. All joy. Gone, they were all gone. There was nothing left but two dark eyes like black holes, boring into her and suddenly she was terrified. Cause she needed to get up and run and grab him, hug him and not let go or else he would die. Die.

"Dragon…!" She begged, but her voice was weakening, fading. And he couldn't hear her, because she couldn't shout. He just looked down on her like she was so silly, with her hopes and her dreams and her treasures that were all but gone and turned away from her, dismissed her.

"What a sham," He said, too harsh and too cold to be the real Dragon. Her Dragon didn't talk to her that way, she knew that. But no logic reached the dreaming. So, she heard it again, "What a sham. Useless. We won't meet again."

And then she was awake again, but not from a jolt. She'd landed. Landed in a pillow of air, because she knew of no other way to describe what that landing felt like. And then she felt grainy, wet sand smear her skin and get up inside her clothes. Water covered her like a blanket, then pulled back. And this, at least made her smile, because she'd made it out of the dreams and back to sea.

But then she remembered the real Dragon, whom she'd left behind.

Her eyes snapped open, and her arms bent, then stretched. Blood-encrusted fingers dug into wet, grip-less sand and pulled. Trembling, tired legs kicked. Slowly but steadily, she pulled herself away from the sea. The sea was not home anymore—that had died with her crew. But there was a newer, more humble home in need of much support. And she needed to get back to him as soon as possible.

She left the shore behind and found herself on a dirt path. She could smell something sweet and fruity, possibly melons. And there was the familiar _whoosh, whoosh_ of blades spinning in the wind.

Windmills.

She chuckled to herself. She hadn't heard that sound in a long time. But it almost sounded like sails fluttering in the wind. That was enough, somehow, to assure her she was in a safe place.

So, she lowered her head, unable to continue, and slept again. Dreamless.

 **00000**

Light stretched across the sky in beams. Blue sky, so close and endless she could have touched it.

The pitter-patter of light-but-steady feet. The sound of them grew closer, obviously coming towards her. It sounded like a few people. All coming to her.

Usually that would have scared her. But now she was calm.

Then they were leaning over her, a whole crowd of strangers too stunned for words. And a man was kneeling, lifting her carefully out of the dirt and holding her so her back was in his lap.

Her eyes eased open bit by bit, until she was looking up into unfamiliar but kind faces.

"Who are you?" He asked. "Where did you come from?"

Ruka couldn't tell. It was possible they didn't recognize her with all her wounds. But if they knew who she was, they wouldn't help her. And she needed help, so she could get strong and get moving.

"Where… Am… I…?" She asked, barely able to speak. Her throat was dry and her voice hoarse. Someone noticed this, because another person immediately knelt and poured water from a canteen down her throat.

She grabbed the canteen with greedy hands, even though they were holding it for her. She gulped it down, and noticed this water tasted good. Purer and cleaner than what she was used to. This place must have been peaceful.

"This is Fuusha Village of Goa Kingdom." The man who was holding her said gently. "You're safe now."

 **00000**

 **I did it! I finished a chapter in time to update it on my self-set deadline! Yaaay. How did I do this time? Did you enjoy it? You guys were scary quiet last time, maybe cuz I took so long. I am really, really, really sorry about that! Life got in the way! Don't hate me! And please review! I live for them. I even take screenshots of them and use them as a screensaver. See you next time!**


	25. Chapter 24: A Dangerous Game

**Hello, all! First off, I'd like to apologize for scaring anyone who received the message I sent out over a week ago stating I might go on hiatus. PMs for me are open again if you have any questions.**

 **Now about this chapter, I decided on a few cameo appearances. First, I originally planned for Whitebeard to make an appearance, but after re-watching a certain arc I switched him out with another pirate, thinking it might be more interesting that way. Another thing: usually when I post a quote at the beginning of a new chapter, it's meant to refer to Dragon or Ruka. Not this time.**

 **Please enjoy. And please, please, please review. Thank you everyone who favorited/followed, but what can I do to get a review out of you? Please tell me.**

 **00000**

A World of Difference

Chapter 24: A Dangerous Game

 _You say that I'm paranoid_

 _But I'm pretty sure the world is out to get me_

 _It's not like I make the choice_

 _To let my mind stay so fucking messy._

— _Heavy_ , Linkin Park

Ruka knew things were bad before she even came to.

Her whole body ached—like she'd been run over by a horse-drawn carriage and rolled over a bed hot coals. She was so thirsty, like she'd just walked through the desert. Her skin felt like the water in a tub, hot on top and cold underneath, and she felt both freezing and feverish. On top of all that, she was sweating bullets and just barely managed to force her eyes open.

A damp, earthy stench hung in the air. Where was she? A basement? A storm shelter?

She was in someone else's bed. The blankets were pulled up to her chin, and she had a face mask on as well as a cold rag laid across her forehead. Her hand was hanging over the edge from underneath the blanket. When she tried to move her arm, only her fingers twitched.

Dammit.

She noticed a couple of crates stacked in the one corner. In another, a young girl was slumped in a chair, snoozing, her hands clutched around some unfinished knitting. Knitting? Ruka thought only old grannies knit.

A half-melted tapered candle burned in a small glass dish, placed atop one of the bottom crates. The light was enough to illuminate that corner, the girl, and the stairs. It was so dark, Ruka couldn't have seen herself even if she could move.

Just blinking hurt. The events at Ohara flashed through her mind, and she turned her head to the wall as if to hide the shame.

It came back to her then. The red-haired woman with the paw pads and who she was targeting.

She groaned and grunted, the aggravation and physical agony evident in her unintelligible noises. Her fingers trembled and twitched as they curled inch-by-inch into a fist. Her wrist trembled as if her hand were about to fall off, and the shaking traveled up her arm. Her elbow barely cooperated, half-bending and unbending a dozen or so times before she managed to fold her arm to her chest, something she did with a muffled war cry that startled the sleeping girl awake.

"What—? What—?" She asked, getting to her feet and letting her knitting slip from shaking fingers.

Ruka threw her arm back out, and herself with it. She hit the bed and screamed for a solid minute. The pain of the impact was unlike anything she'd ever endured. Being cut in half by bullets would've been more bearable.

"Ah—! Ah!" The girl gasped, backing up as Ruka clawed the ground and pulled herself around, dragged herself towards the stairs. "No! No! _Help_!"

Ruka shot the girl a dirty look, and instantly regretted it. Somehow, she knew she wasn't being kept prisoner on purpose—she was badly injured, and her body was all but ordering her to stay still.

But she couldn't. Dragon, Bonnie, Kuma—they needed her. She needed to get back to them.

She had promises to keep. Goals to meet. She couldn't stay here.

"Oh, no you don't!" Said a voice from up the stairs. Feet rushed down stairs, closed in on her just as she managed to grab the bottom step.

She was lifted by strong arms—and screamed, again—roughly handled and carried back to bed, where she was carefully placed. Ruka fought back, reaching out with trembling arms to grab barely-visible persons as they tried, repeatedly, to get her under the blankets.

Frustrated, she punched one man in the nose. He fell back, hit the ground, covered blood-soaked cheeks with both hands.

"Damn, you!" The still standing one snapped, and pulled his fist back.

Ruka felt the muscles in her weakened legs clench. If she had to fight, so be it.

"No!" The girl said, rushing up behind the man to throw her arms around his waist. She looked up at him with great, big, baby cow eyes and silently pleaded.

The man's arm dropped with a "tsk," and he turned. He helped his friend up and together they climbed back up the stairs, with the girl watching them carefully.

"Are you alright?" She asked, turning those big, calf eyes on Ruka.

She was cute, this little girl. Cuter than Bonnie, when she was that size. A thousand times cuter than Ruka.

"I'm sorry, but you shouldn't move!" She said, kneeling to grip the blanket and rest her chin at the edge of the bed. "It's not just because of your wounds. There are some marines in town. They're going door to door, checking everywhere. Someone else on the island saw you fall out of the sky and reported it to them. This room is hidden, so they shouldn't find us as long as we're quiet."

They knew who she was and they were still harboring her? The marines were sure to kill everyone if they found out. Who were these people? Had Dragon contacted them somehow? Bribed them?

No. Dragon couldn't know where she was.

The cute little girl, with her big eyes, smiled so warmly Ruka was overwhelmed by maternal instincts.

"I'm Makino." She introduced herself, and reached out with gentle fingers to push Ruka's sweat-drenched bangs out of her face. "Don't worry, you're safe. There, there. There, there."

Ruka eased up, relaxing at her touch. She felt less maternal and more life a trusting child. She could trust Makino, or at least she thought she could.

"I can't leave this room either, right now." Makino said as she stood, took Ruka's rag from her forehead, and soaked it in water from a container. "They told me to watch you. Don't worry, they won't come barging down here. The door to this room is hidden under some barrels of rum. My guardians are handling the men who wanted to investigate our house. Even if they suspect something, they can't act without proof because they don't want to offend Garp-san."

That name…! That name was important, somehow, but… Oh, what was it? She couldn't think clearly…

Makino was combing her fingers through Ruka's hair, trying to get her to relax.

"It's okay, you can rest." She reassured her. "You should rest. You're safe, Ruka."

Ruka drifted off to sleep. She could hear his voice in her head, repeating Makino's words. She could feel _his_ hand in hers, even though it was impossible.

She slept.

 **00000**

 ** _Seventy-two Hours After Ohara's Destruction_**

 ** _Akame Port City, West Blue_**

Ignoring his thoughts on the overly-exciting events of the last three days, Dragon's downcast eyes watched the stairs as his booted feet climbed them two at a time. It was dimly lit by the waning sunlight leaking through the cracked walls.

Their rendezvous point was an old hotel in the slums of Akame Port City, an island at the southernmost point of West Blue. It was a decrepit old place that served as lodging, refuge, financial support and restocking source to most of the West Blue's worst rogues. Dragon had visited many times in the past, as had most of his former CP0 colleagues. This island was like a giant mouse trap. Pirates and fugitives came here to win a fortune at the casinos, or to have their ships repaired, or to rest up from whatever most recent battle had wiped out half their men and maimed the survivors. The World Government could have destroyed it at any time, except the idea of having all their worst enemies fleeing to the same place made them almost happy.

There was always the possibility that they would predict he would come here and come looking for him. But more likely, they would be searching for him in East Blue. According to the calls he'd wiretapped in the past few days, his father was headed there on vacation.

He passed two older men, both burly and bulky, smoking thick cigars where they were huddled together in a corner. Dragon's eyes, grim, tired, and glazed over from the effects of depersonalization, circled up and took in the sight of the two strangers.

Bright, wicked grins pulled their cheeks up into fat, happy, greedy lumps. One chewed up his still smoking cigar, and gulped it down. The other crumpled it in one fist.

Dragon kept them in mind, all his senses gathering to create a sort of pull, or arrow, aimed at the men. The pull became a stabbing sensation in his belly, but Dragon ignored it. He turned his back on them and travelled up the stairs.

They were shaking. As soon as he took his eyes off them, they both started shaking so badly the floor vibrated.

Dragon came to another landing after twelve more steps, and circled around to the next flight, where he could see a wall of closed doors waiting for him at the top.

As soon as he was out of their sight, his hand came up to clench his chest. This was strange.

He was having trouble controlling his haki. It was pouring from him naturally, like a flood of shallow water. Too weak to render anyone unconsciousness, but enough to turn anyone standing too close into a trembling wreck.

 _Quit acting like I'm dead!_ An irritable, female voice seemed to say. _We don't have time for your angst, Dragon! You got things to do!_

Dragon smiled quietly despite himself. If Ruka were here with him, she'd probably say something like that. And she would be right. There was too much on the line for him to lose his self-control now.

He pulled his haki in, kept the energy tucked and bound in a tight little ball in the bottom of his stomach close to his back and let it gather there. It was a neat little trick. But something told him he was going to need a cushion in haki stored up for when the time came.

He climbed the rest of the stairs with a clear head. There was no more point in imagining where Ruka was, or what was happening to her, when all he could really do was guess and wait. His best guess was his only hope, and it was a possibility he'd arrived at mere hours after Ohara's destruction.

He'd decided seconds into his grief that Ruka had to be alive. It was a hope, nothing more. He'd confirmed it after sneaking back onto the destroyed island with the search parties. Most of the underground shelters had caved in, and were found empty of any people or remains. The ashes of the tree of knowledge held a pile of charred skeletons—the bones of the scholars—and the lakebed contained copious amounts of soaked books. They went over the rest of the island with a fined tooth comb, so to speak, but no other remains were found. Divers inspected the waters, and discovered the empty of anything to suggest survivors had made it out.

When Dragon despaired, he called the old psychic Granny on Parties Island using the red transponder snail Vegapunk had entrusted to them. With the white and red transponder together, he was able to contact the one person who had confirmed what he'd only hoped: both Ruka and Robin were still alive. Robin was still in West Blue, hiding. But Ruka was in East Blue.

Granny's ability had shifted, she said, to where she could see others beside just Ruka and Dragon. She could catch glimpses of people they'd interacted with. More importantly, Ruka was in darkness, and psychics couldn't see the deceased.

After that, Dragon had needed an explanation. How could Ruka be in East Blue? It was too far to reach in three days, and she wouldn't have gone willingly. Granny had said Ruka had flown there, but she didn't know how.

Dragon had a theory though. Not the best theory, but generally when something that was logically impossible happened, it was almost always the result of a devil fruit.

So someone had attacked Ruka, just as Dragon was attacked. Someone with devil fruit powers, who'd sent her flying to East Blue.

She wasn't safe.

She wasn't anywhere nearby.

Where was she, exactly? Was she safe, fed, healed, and whole? Would she send him a message, somehow, to let him know she was okay?

He just wanted to know she was okay.

It wasn't as if he couldn't think for himself. He had his own conscience. But if Ruka wasn't nearby, he might get desperate and slip and stoop to irredeemable methods. He might lose sight of what was important and not even notice.

At least Bonnie. He needed to somehow manage Bonnie, at least until he could meet up with Ruka again. Bonnie would never yield to Dragon's judgement, but her sister's presence kept the lonely, bitter, youthful woman who was half his ally, and half his reason for sleeping with one eye open, somewhat tolerable.

She should be a decent human and try being tolerable on her own for once.

He blinked and noticed, at last, that he'd been standing at the top of the stairs for too long.

So much for a clear head. He needed to keep that in check, too.

"Dragon."

The voice of his friend, like gravity, pulled his attention to an open door halfway down the hall. Kuma was hunched over, leaning out and eyeing him with equal parts concern and sympathy. Was Ruka's absence enough for him to discern the situation? Or was it written all over his face?

"Kuma." Dragon said in response, nodding politely for his friend to duck back into the room so he could enter.

Kuma pulled his head in and, still leaning down, walked back into the room. Dragon followed him in, saw him sit cross-legged in an empty corner.

Dragon swept his gaze over the room. Two small beds, shoved to either side of the room and adorned with blankets that looked like burlap sacks sewed together and pillows that were stained with old mildew. Mold grew along the ceiling and in the corners. Rats scuttled in the walls, roaches crawled over the sticky floor. One chair occupied the other empty corner, one of its legs having broken off so that it now leaned on its weak side.

Dragon noted all of this with nonchalance. The room's appearance was irrelevant, because they wouldn't be staying long.

He cast his gaze on a bigger problem.

Bonnie Read was seated on the bed, her ankles cross and legs raised, long toenails piercing weak plaster to hold her legs up. Stiff arms were crossed so tight over her chest even Dragon wouldn't have been able to pry them apart. Proud head held high with scrappy fringe thrown over closed, impatient eyes with chin jutting upwards in the ultimate façade of "don't care."

Dragon faced her, sighing a little through his nose. Kuma kept perfectly still, silent, and braced for impact.

This was going to be difficult no matter how it started.

Bonnie's little chin dropped with enough attitude to even make the ever-casual Kuma's features twitch in loathing, which they did.

Her sharp eyes met his and he tried to keep his face blank, but telling.

"Where's Netty?" She demanded, her tone making it perfectly clear she didn't give a crud about him.

He didn't look away from her, didn't breathe or move or show any hint of the overwhelming guilt eating him alive or the brain-numbing tornado of Ruka-focused questions occupying his mind. But he didn't need to show or do anything.

Bonnie fell out of her false posing, sitting bolt upright with eyes that went bright, sharp, and alarmed in 0.1 seconds. In 0.2 seconds, she was in the air, coming at him with teeth and nails. A wild cat with a bright pink mane.

Dragon kicked her in the stomach, and she hit the wall hard enough to send cracks spider-webbing up to the ceiling. She slid down to the bed, doubled over in pain. Kuma and Dragon ignored her and began talking.

"Are you alright?" Kuma asked him, going with the obvious question.

Dragon wasn't sure what he meant by "alright," but he was present and accounted for, unlike Ruka. He nodded, trying to keep his thoughts present and off the subject of his missing wife.

"It took me longer than it should have." He admitted, guarded and embarrassed. "But I had to stick around for the following search and seizure."

"HOW COULD YOU LEAVE HER BEHIND?!" Bonnie demanded from where she was holding her stomach with one arm and keeping herself up with the other.

Dragon rolled his eyes at her and shot her a look of icy wrath.

"Ruka is still alive." He snapped.

Bonnie leapt out at him again. "LIAR!"

He didn't have the patience for Bonnie Read right now. He needed to find Ruka, so he was moving, breathing, and—he twisted and threw his arm out, back-hand smacking Bonnie to and through the front wall, so she landed in a pile of wood out in the empty hall—fighting.

"Do you have to do that?" Kuma asked, gesturing with an open-palm to the hole and cracks in the walls. "The manager won't be pleased. This room wasn't easy to get, you know."

"I need you to go down to the harbor." Dragon said, ignoring Kuma's comment. "Look for a ship captain, and negotiate safe passage over reverse mountain into East Blue for two. Tell them we're able to pay whatever they want, so long as we leave before the day's out."

"Only two?" Kuma asked.

"Yes." Dragon said, just as Bonnie threw the door open. She braced her arm against it as blood trailed from her scalp down her face and shoulders. Dragon pointed at her. "This one's staying behind."

"OH, HELL NO!" Bonnie screamed, launching herself at him once more.

Dragon's hand lashed out and snagged her throat, fingers curling over her thin neck in a way that was tight without harming any of the muscles or bones.

"Why the East Blue?" Kuma asked as Bonnie swung her arms and kicked both feet, spitting and snarling like some wild animal.

"Just do it and quickly. We don't have time for any more _dramatics_." Dragon ordered, tightening his grip at the last word.

"I don't think I should leave you alone with this." Kuma said, staring pointedly at Bonnie.

"Just go." Dragon commanded quietly, meeting Bonnie's eyes. "I need a word with her."

Bonnie wrapped her arms and legs around his arm and twisted her body this way and that, apparently attempting to dislocate his shoulder.

"As you wish." Kuma said agreeably, unfolding his legs and getting to his feet.

As soon as he was gone, Dragon swung his arm and threw Bonnie back on the bed. She landed with a dull fwump and wasted no time in circling around, grabbing a long split of wood that came from the broken wall, and getting to her feet. She stood on the mattress and glowered down at him, giving him the same exact look Ruka had given the Gorosei in Mariejois.

"Knock it off. There's no way someone like you could ever kill me." Dragon stated matter-of-factly.

"Why don't you let me try? Then we'll see!" Bonnie shrieked, leaning over so she was on eye-level with him.

For all that Bonnie was murderously livid, Dragon was calm and still. Outwardly.

"Quit making such a show of it then." Dragon challenged, no longer caring to get along with her. "You just want an excuse to attack me. Go ahead, if you're so eager. It won't make Flint Rackham any less dead or Ruka any less missing."

That was the wrong thing to say. Bonnie clutched the wooden splint and brought it down on him, aiming for his eye. Dragon deliberately released a small, but powerful, burst of haki. It hit Bonnie like a hammer, and she turned pale as her legs gave out. The wooden splint clattered to the ground.

"I want to you ask something." Dragon said, deliberate and threatening. "And you're going to drop the theatrics and answer me honestly, or else I will leave you here and not come back. Am I being clear?"

Bonnie, dazed and frightened to the point that silent tears were falling from withdrawn eyes, nodded quietly.

"On Ohara, right when my one and only chance to get to Nico Robin and Nico Olvia presented itself, someone got in my way. Someone who holds some sort of grudge against me. Do you know him?"

Bonnie shuddered, each little strand of bright pink hair dancing. She shook her head no.

"Really?" Dragon tilted his head skeptically.

Bonnie nodded fervently.

Dragon's teeth locked together, keeping the aggravated scream that had been building up inside him since he lost Ruka inside where it belonged.

He had done a lot of thinking since he met that man. That stranger, who hated Dragon so much he stood right in the target of a buster call just for a chance to fight him. And in all his thinking, Dragon had concluded that he knew that man from somewhere.

It wasn't the same thing he'd felt when he saw Nico Robin. With her, it felt like de ja vu, but backwards. This time it was like a silent alarm thrumming in his skull. He had seen that stranger elsewhere, under very bad circumstances, and some part of him remembered. An unclear, unconscious part of him knew that man from somewhere.

When it dawned on him, it felt like he'd lost his footing and fallen off some cliff. It was so obvious—he should've realized it sooner. He had lived among scum for almost three decades, and the only time he'd ever left their company was when they had work for him to do. The most frequent assignment were assassinations.

And the only people they'd sent him to kill were good people.

In most cases, he'd been sent after the head of only one person at a time. So their friends and loved ones were all left behind to mourn them.

Dragon hadn't always been the elite assassin the tenryuubito had coveted. He had started out sloppy, messy, easily spotted and identified. Anyone could've hidden nearby and watched him… Perhaps a child or an elder, or a coward.

His new enemy was a witness, or a survivor, or both. Someone who'd been close to one of Dragon's victims and now sought vengeance. It was only a hypothesis, but he couldn't think of any other way to explain what had happened.

Just the possibility that it was true had been enough to drag him down into thick, smothering despair.

When the possibility occurred to him that Bonnie could've had hired that man to kill him, he'd felt both relieved and enraged. Rage for Ruka, at the thought of how it would feel for her to be put in such a situation where her own sister could become her enemy. Relief because that meant he didn't have to answer for what he'd done in the past.

But of course Bonnie hadn't hired him. Why would she? She hated Dragon, of course, but not enough to endanger Ruka. Dragon had known the truth before he'd even asked. It had all been there, in her eyes, in those moments where, just after Flint's death, Bonnie had done nothing but tend to the catatonic Ruka who could feel only grief and hollow despair.

Dragon, always aware of his own body language, kept his back straight and shoulders up only because Bonnie was slowly recovering from the shock of his haki. He regretted using it against her.

"I'm sorry." He apologized, painfully sincere.

Bonnie's head popped up, face bright with surprise. Whether he was apologizing for losing Ruka, or leading Flint to his death, or using his haki on her, neither of them really knew.

They were spared from mulling it over too long. Kuma walked in the room, then, holding a small stack of papers in his hand that he hadn't left with and gave Dragon a small, jesting smile. It was so uncharacteristic Dragon laughed through his nose a little.

"I take it you found us a ride?" He asked, flashing a little smirk.

"Yes. Miraculously enough, it's a large, sturdy ship." Kuma said, smiling fully. "A _pirate_ ship."

"Oh, really?" Dragon said, little chuckle tacked to the end of his words.

"You're not complaining?"

"Why should I? We're notorious rogues, too, aren't we?"

"True." Kuma agreed, holding the papers out to Dragon. "But you might complain about this, a little."

Dragon saw the top portion of the papers were all stamped with the word WANTED, in big, capital letters. Bounties.

He took them from Kuma, turned them over in his hands, and took in the first face. Then checked the second and third, faces, too.

"Huh." He said, eyes widening in shock.

"As soon as I told them you'd pay anything for the trip, they agreed readily." Kuma explained, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dragon folded up the bounties and put them away in his cloak. He combed loose fringe back with his fingers and tried to think carefully.

"This might be complicated." He warned.

"Complicated how?" Kuma asked, clueless.

"Did you tell him who _exactly_ wanted a ride?" Dragon asked, uncertainty bringing his hand back to rub his neck.

"No." Kuma answered matter-of-factly, before his voice turned over with concern: "Should I have?"

"Well, let's just say he might not be happy to see me." Dragon said, carefully.

Come to think of it, Dragon didn't have a single memory of that person ever being happy. And it was very likely he would throw Dragon and Kuma off or announce their presence to the whole island, and leave without giving anyone a ride anywhere.

But they didn't have to time to overthink things. Ruka could be in danger.

Kuma nodded, understanding. Then Dragon turned to Bonnie, who sat cross-legged now, clutching her knees and keeping her head bowed.

"He and I are leaving now." Dragon told her gently. "We're going to find Ruka. Probably. But, even if I'm wrong and she's not there, she'll come back here to find us. So, you're going to wait here, and behave, and tell her everything. Understand?"

Bonnie trembled where she sat.

Dragon took that as a yes.

He reached into his cloak and took out a thick envelope, opened it, and removed a few hundred berries. He dropped them in her lap.

"That should be enough for three weeks' stay." Dragon said, closing the envelope and tucking it away safely. "If we're not back by then, it means this location has been compromised. In which case, meet us at the twin capes."

He waited for her to move, or twitch, or respond. But she was silent as the stars. So Dragon and Kuma left, with Kuma giving her a rather nasty scowl. Dragon made a note of it, mentally, and felt some of the uneasiness leave his heart.

 **00000**

Dragon stood side-by-side with Kuma, pinching the top of his hood to keep it from being blown off by the warm winds. They stood together on a pirate ship, which was semi-large and not too flashy, and the hull rocking in the windblown waves.

Overhead, a first quarter moon glowed in a periwinkle blue sky, laid out under a loose splash of stars. Akame Port was aglow with shop lights, resembling a galaxy in the dark. The streets were still crowded with indecent humans, all going about doing indecent things.

Dragon tried to focus on avoiding the eight pairs of eyes.

Lined up in front of them were eight pirates, including the captain. They were a weird bunch. Quite a few of them met or overcame Kuma's great height, something Dragon found astonishing. A lot of them wore sunglasses, too, even though it was night time.

One was coyly dressed in a pinstriped suit, a cigar hanging out of his mouth and his hair sleeked back.

The man beside him was muscular, with pointed shoulders. He was clad in armor, but gave off a sort of anti-climactic vibe that made Dragon feel like chuckling.

The next man had an oversized chunk of pancake glued to his cheek. He had the feel of a veteran fighter, though, and Dragon made a mental note of him in the back of his mind.

Perhaps the most bizarre person was the huge man with long strings of snot hanging from his nose. He kept laughing, seemingly at nothing. Repulsive.

Another man, the one who stood closest to his captain, had a long face and a wide, toothy smile. Rather than being just huge, he was tall, and hung familiarly over his captain by keeping his arm on the man's shoulder casually. Dragon suspected he was the right hand.

Perhaps the oldest and most bizarre person was an old, wrinkly bald man wearing spandex. Like a few of the other members, he looked like an idiot.

But Dragon knew the captain better than to assume anyone on this ship was a weakling.

As for the captain, well, it had been a long time since Dragon had seen him in person, and his appearance had changed from that depicted in the two-year-old wanted poster. He too, was wearing sunglasses except in his case, it was to look more intimidating. He'd told Dragon himself, a long time ago.

His blonde hair was cropped short, and he was flamboyantly dressed in a light-pink suit with a pink feather boa thrown over his shoulders. He wore pointed shoes, like a woman, but in his case it was to make his kicks more deadly, another piece of information he'd shared with Dragon before.

He smirked at Dragon now, surrounded by his strange new comrades. Dragon wanted to put his guard up, but if he did the pirates would sense it and attack en masse. He could've handled that, but then he'd have no way of going to the East.

The captain laughed. "I was wondering who wanted to go to East Blue so badly. Who knew it was you, of all people. I'd heard you gotten away from them."

He sounded extraordinarily pleased to see Dragon. Surprise. Dragon had been under the impression that this man hated him.

"It's good to see you," Doflamingo greeted as Dragon lowered his hand, lifted his head, and met his eyes, "Shiroryuu."

 **00000**

After Doflamingo confirmed Dragon's identity, they moved things inside. The other members of his crew were left out on the deck save for Diamante, who was wriggling his fingers in the air as he cackled away at the "notion" of Dragon's existence, as he so put it. Kuma was ordered by both Doffy and Dragon to stay put.

"To think there was someone who knew you when you were a Tenryuubito." Diamante said as he fell back to sit on a thick, glossy couch. He crossed his legs and propped his elbows up on the back edge of the sofa, laughing away.

Doflamingo stood, something Dragon took to be a gesture of respect. He picked a folded up newspaper off a metallic side table and waved it at Dragon.

"A lot of craziness has been going down!" He said gleefully, wide smirk rippling in a chuckle. "Some guy cut his legs off to escape prison… The most brilliant minds in the world burn to death in some tree… Trying to build trains on the ocean… And some moron tried to rescue his slave girlfriend and got dragged off to Mariejois himself!"

Doffy threw the newspaper back on the table and approached Dragon, who regarded him with emotionless, dark eyes.

"But what impressed me the most," Doflamingo continued, clapping his hand onto Dragon's shoulder, "Was you."

Dragon blinked, patient and waiting.

"I remember how that moronic grandfather of mine used to covet you!" Doflamingo shouted, chuckling. "Always sending you out to dispose of the slaves I got bored of!"

Dragon's mouth tasted metallic and raw. This bastard hadn't changed a bit since he was a child, except that he had lost his Celestial Dragon status, his family, and had grown up to be a repulsive freedom-abusing world-wrecker.

"Still I'm surprised you have the nerve to show your face to me." Doflamino said, his smile falling into a frown which quickly twisted into an enraged scowl. The veins in Doflamino's forehead bulged, throbbing against his skull. He raised his hand, moving his fingers about like a puppeteer.

Dragon's pupils shrank, eyes catching the low light glinting off the strings crisscrossing around the narrow sitting room. None of them touched him, but he was inside two separate circles of strings.

His gaze flickered to Doffy's face, currently warped by some still-burning, old bitterness.

"After all… DIDN'T I ORDER YOU TO COME GET ME?!" Doflamingo snapped, smashing his forehead against Dragon's.

Blood trailed down both of their noses, but Dragon gave no impression he felt the pain.

Doflamingo had only ever been a spoiled, selfish monster. His family had only ever been good down to their very cores, even the small and clumsy Roci whom had had the bad habit of playing by the edge of the red line and whom Dragon had had to rescue over two-dozen times.

"You should've gotten my message!" Doflamingo shouted, clearly referring to the small note Dragon had received years back. A note written in soot, on a dusty piece of scrap paper, and tied to the leg of a falcon. "Why didn't you come to get us?!"

"I wasn't allowed to." Dragon replied in a monotone voice.

Doflamingo's teeth clacked together impatiently, obviously not accepting Dragon's excuse.

Dragon sighed. He couldn't afford to fight with Doffy here. He needed to be believed.

Dragon raised one arm, and Diamante sat straight up. Dragon slowed down, then reached for the end of his shirt and pulled it up to show a small, horribly scarred portion of his torso.

Doffy looked and recoiled in disgust. Diamante stared, as if appalled, and a bead of sweat trailed down his brow.

There on Dragon's torso, just above his hip bone, was a blue-and-purple spider web of scars, each one carefully carved by a rusted blade and soaked in salt and vinegar about a decade earlier.

"What's that from?" Doflamingo asked, lowering his gun and stepping away, his frown twitching.

"Your grandfather did it to me." Dragon admitted, letting his shirt fall. He didn't like to show anyone his scars. Only Ruka had seen that one before, and after her reaction he had done it best to keep it hidden. "Punishment for going after you."

"Why should I believe you?" Doflamingo challenged. "You always hated us."

"I do hate the tenryuubito." Dragon assured him in a voice like acid, which turned kind: "But your family was never anything but kind to me. Besides, your mother's illness wasn't anything that should have been fatal, going off the symptoms you described. She would have been fine if you'd been allowed to live somewhere more hygienic."

"So, you did get the message." Doflamingo stated. "And tried to come after us. That makes sense. You were pretty close to Rocinante, and you even let me follow you around the palace."

 _Only because I couldn't say anything to you without starting up a conversation that ended with you ordering some slave's execution._

"Where is he? Your brother." Dragon asked, recalling the tiny, quiet boy who'd always clung to his mother or father.

Doffy went quiet, and started shaking. Dragon was confused until Doffy flashed his trademark smirk, this one a thousand times more sickening and wicked than the rest.

"Him? He ran off!" He said, laughing. "Almost nine years ago, now. Disappeared after I shot our idiot father. Wouldn't look at me after I lopped off his idiotic head and took it to Mariejois!"

Dragon's expression turned somber. Heavy eyebrows knit over sympathizing eyes. Of course, Roci hadn't followed his monstrous brother. Those two brothers had been like oil and water from the moment they were born. Roci liked catching butterflies, and feeding birds, and picking flowers for his mother. Doffy liked tormenting slaves and throwing rocks at pigeons, and starting fires in the library.

Doflamingo misread Dragon's sympathy, assuming it was for him.

"Don't look at me like that, Aniki!" He snapped, dropping his string trap and going over to sit beside Diamante on the couch. He held both hands up, fingers splayed. "I went through a two-year learning experience, and realized the world is filled with arrogant humans who do whatever the hell they want. The gods, who are the tenryuubito, don't give two shits what happens to the rest of the world so long as they get to live out their lives in their stupid palace! I accepted it the minute they rejected me and sent me packing with my father's head! Roci couldn't adapt and got left behind, but I replaced my dead mother, idiot father, and long lost brother with my new family!

"You too, right?" Doffy pointed at Dragon. "You got your wish and escaped that place you always hated, and now you're going about trying to wreck the world!'

Dragon gave no indication he disagreed. _I'm different from you, you repulsive brat. I want to change the world, not destroy it_.

"Forget going to the East Blue and come with me!" Doflamingo offered with a touch or authority, and Dragon realized it was an order, not a suggestion. "We'll get revenge on those idiots up in that ridiculous Holy Land together, and then—"

"Not interested." Dragon interceded, closing his eyes and turning his back on Doffy. "If you're not going to give me a ride to East Blue I'll look for help elsewhere."

No sooner than when he took his first step did Diamante appear directly in front of him, his arm waving in front of him like it was a flag. It straightened out, now gleaming like metal, and he attempted to shove it at Dragon's face.

Dragon reacted instantaneously, hardening his entire body so it was completely sleek black all over, then pulled his fist back and threw it at Diamante's gleaming arm.

Strings came out of nowhere and wrapped around them both, snagging them into an uncomfortable stillness.

"Calm down, Diamante." Doffy ordered from his seat on the couch. Dragon couldn't see him, but could hear his fingers move up and down with joy. "I don't want to fight this guy. I want him to join us!"

Dragon and Diamante locked eyes with each other. Dragon wasn't in the best mood, and Diamante wasn't feeling very tolerable after hearing Dragon insult Doffy.

"How about this?" Doffy said playfully as he dropped his strings. "I'll take you over Reverse Mt., and drop you off at Logue Town. But on the way, I'll try and persuade you to join my crew. If you end up agreeing, you don't have to pay me anything. If you refuse, I'll take whatever you're willing to pay."

He got to his feet and walked over to Dragon, thumping him on the back like they were old friends, and coming to stand beside him and Diamante. He offered Dragon his hand.

"Deal?" He asked, though it was clear refusal of this offer would definitely lead to a fight.

Dragon studied Doffy with careful eyes.

 _Under no conditions ever will I work for the Celestial Dragons,_ ANY _Celestial Dragon, ever again_.

"Deal." He said, taking Doffy's hand.

And thus Dragon entered a very dangerous game.

 **00000**

 ** _Mere moments before Doffy and Dragon's conversation…_**

Bonnie sat in the otherwise abandoned room, with both musty curtains drawn over the tiny window, their edges lined with the waning sunlight seeping through.

The darkness of the dusty room pressed in on her, stealing her breath away, leaving her with only bruised pride and unstable conviction. The envelope of blood money sat on the table, and seemed to watch her.

She sat at the edge of the bed, her feet pressed together over the revolting carpet. The soles of her feet were caked in dirt, soot, and dry skin. Gross.

At that thought, she lifted her hands, turned her palms up, and looked them over. Scarred, dirty hands with bloody knuckles and cracked nails. She flexed her fingers and turned her hands over repeatedly, eyeing both backs and palms. She dropped one hand and raised the other, combing nasty fingers through unwashed, greasy hair.

When did she become so… Lazy?

No… When did she start caring what she looked like?

The answer came to her instantly: when she was a little girl.

In girlhood, she had observed her sister with idolization and concern. Aside from a few scarce memories too unclear to matter, she didn't remember her mother. As a child, she had mistakenly believed her sister was her mom. It was Netty who made sure she was bathed, clothed, and fed. It was Netty who hid her in the small wardrobe when bad men came to dinner, until their mother told her to stop hiding Bonnie. It was Netty who defended her, and stole her away from the weak woman who _was_ mother and didn't protect them when it mattered.

Netty turned a small underground cave into their home. When they were discovered there, Netty took them to the abandoned Ferris Wheel, climbed to the very top, and turned the highest ferry into their new home.

Netty chopped her hair off, wore clothes too big for her starved body, and ventured out into bars and clubs to steal food just so Bonnie wouldn't have to. When Bonnie figured it out, she made Netty teach her how to fight, and they started to go out together.

Bonnie was a natural beauty. That was what Netty always said. That was why she wanted to hide Bonnie from the eyes of the villagers, who milked the lives of beautiful women to the bone. But Netty was a beauty too. Where Bonnie stood tall with full curves and flamboyant pink hair, Netty was beautiful in a quieter way. It was she who was naturally beautiful, with her never-say-die attitude, and her pride, and her endless optimism when things got bad.

If their home was destroyed, or their food ran out, or there were too many marines in town, or anything else. If Bonnie was ever frightened, that was when Netty was strongest. Someone had to be strong, and it was always her.

When they lost their friend, Netty faltered. So did Bonnie. How could they not? It felt like everything was over. For the first time in a long time, they questioned why they were alive at all. Why had they been born into this era, that town? Why had they lost everything?

They got their vengeance. They laid siege to everyone in that ugly, greedy village. Right when they both thought it was done, game over, time to go, etc. _he_ showed up.

"Flint." She uttered longingly.

Flint was too old for her. Too cool and casual and too much out of her league.

Like that was going to stop her. He was the first man she'd ever laid eyes on who didn't have some ulterior agenda, and the only one she would ever want. But Netty would've objected. Netty, who continued to masquerade as a boy even after leaving home. Bonnie didn't want to disappoint her sister, so she was careful, quiet, sneaky about it.

She just… She just wanted to prove Netty _wrong_. It wasn't _weakness_ to be born as a girl. It wasn't a curse to be pretty, or to try so that people would notice. It wasn't dangerous to wear what you wanted, to look how you wanted to. It wasn't wrong to go after what you wanted, even if there were consequences.

And Bonnie got her wish. Netty found someone! A strong, wounded, still-fighting, someone. A man who was even more unhappy they were. And she chased after him, saved him, brought him to life.

At great cost.

If they had left him behind and sailed away, Netty wouldn't have stood for it. She would've left them and gone in on her own, tried to save him by herself, and died. Even if she hadn't gone after him, she wouldn't have lasted long. She could not have abandoned him anymore than Bonnie could've given up on Flint.

Bonnie understood all that. Understood it still. But when she sat by Flint's side, held his hand, and felt the warmth slowly leave it, she regretted everything. She hated herself for being a woman, for trying, for wishing and dreaming and fighting. If she had just agreed with Netty and given up, Flint would have lived. Dragon would have died. Everything would be as it should.

Even though she knew Dragon wasn't too blame, she hated him. Even though it was good Netty abandoned her male façade and started dressing like a girl, Bonnie hated herself. If she could just go back, do it over, she'd fix everything. She'd be the one to chop her hair off and live as a boy. Flint would never fall in love with her. They would never get on his ship. Dragon would stay in Mariejois where he belonged. And Netty would love only her, as she should.

It was those thoughts that stayed with her ever since Flint's limp, lifeless hand hit the bed. She stopped taking care of herself. Her hair turned into a mass of leprechaun knots. Her face was dirty, her skin lost its smoothness, her teeth started to rot.

She didn't care. Where was the point? The only man she'd ever loved was dead. It no longer mattered what she looked like, or what physical pain she suffered. And maybe Netty would notice what had happened to her, and abandon Dragon so she could take care of Bonnie. Just like old times.

When they went off to Ohara, Bonnie had wished for it with all her heart. _Die_ , she'd shouted at Dragon's back in the distance, _Burn to ashes. Disappear! Die_!

But he'd returned. He had the devils luck, and the vitality of a cockroach. Annoying sonofabitch. He'd come back and Netty was who-knows-where. It felt like a sick joke, or some kind of karma. That karma would be on his side just pissed her off more.

"It should've been him instead." Bonnie spoke up with loathing. One tear after another trailed from her eyes, spanning the length of her cheeks, dripping away to splash against the floor. She sniffled, folded her hands over her heart, closed her eyes as more tears came. "Flint… Flint…!"

It was too much. She didn't know how to live in this world, where everything had turned upside down.

"I agree completely."

Bonnie raised her head, opened her eyes. There was someone else in the room with her now. A woman around her age with long red hair and quiet eyes. She sat across from Bonnie on the other bed, her head in her hands and her legs crossed.

Bonnie dried her eyes, didn't stand. She didn't care much if she was killed anymore.

"Where'd you come from?" She asked on a whim.

The redhaired woman raised one hand, gestured to the open air.

Bonnie shrugged. "Whatever… What's your name, then?"

"My name is Ada." She answered, sweeping her gaze over the room before locking eyes with Bonnie. "I've been watching you for a while, Bonnie Read. Wondering what decisions you would make, if any at all."

"What do you want?" Bonnie asked, sniffling and rubbing the tear tracks from her cheeks.

Ada uncrossed her legs, got to her feet in one fluid motion, and approached Bonnie. She offered Bonnie her hand, and Bonnie saw her hand was gloved.

"Your allegiance." Ada answered solemnly.

Bonnie raised her head, too sad and confused to find the energy for any major movements.

Ada seemed to understand this and continued to speak.

"I know how you feel, Bonnie Read." Ada promised sincerely, and there was an immeasurable level of grief in her voice. "Dragon killed someone I loved, too."

Ada dropped her hand and took a seat beside Bonnie then. She told her a story, one too terrible to really listen to. But Bonnie heard anyway, each miserable detail, and realized Ada and she had that in common. Neither of them really wanted to live.

But Dragon did. Thanks to Netty, Dragon had no intention of dying.

"But he needs to." Ada insisted, clutching her knees. "He can't just turn his back on everything he's done. Someone's got to pay for it. Otherwise, all the people he's killed will never rest in peace. And I need my friend to be able to sleep peacefully. It's the only thing I have to offer now.

"You, too, right? Don't you want… Your crew and lover to be able to rest peacefully?"

No. She wanted Flint back. She wanted him here, with her, holding her hand and letting her rest her weary head on his shoulder. But that was an impossible dream.

As for resting in peace, Flint was already doing that. This… What this woman was offering… Would only disturb and concern Flint. It would mean betraying him, her crew, and Netty. It wasn't justice, but vengeance. A petty vendetta born from self-righteous ego.

But what was the alternative? To live with this grief for the rest of her life? To be in this dark place, overshadowed by a happiness her sister had stolen from her?

No.

So she lied.

"Yes… They should rest peacefully." She whispered. Her heart lurched at the words. Treasonous, emotionless words. She saw so many things in an instant. Netty shielding Dragon from the Gorosei, Flint lifeless, her crewmates lying in pieces in the dirt, and she saw herself as a child, sitting in her sisters arms as they both looked up at the stars and dreamed of the world beyond their sad little village.

Irrelevant.

She would never feel anything again. This was the only thing left to do.

Even if it meant betraying them… She didn't really care anymore. She would take back what they had stolen from her. Her heart, her love, Flint's love… She would take it back.

Doing nothing was no longer an option.

Kuma had warned her. She didn't care. Maybe this was the only option. Kuma, or maybe Dragon, would kill her. Netty would see it, and finally, finally realize what he was.

"What do you want me to do?" Bonnie asked, hopeful, eager, and tense all at once.

Ada saw this and smiled, relieved. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a gun. It looked ordinary, which was disappointing. An ordinary handgun was useless against Dragon.

Ada cradled the gun in her hands and held it out to Bonnie. Bonnie took the gun and raised it to her face, pointing it at the ceiling. She turned it this way and that, and gave Ada a look of skepticism and doubt.

"Flint's sword can cut the seastone, remember?" Ada asked in a lilting voice as she tilted her head. "That's because it was gifted to him by a theif who stole it from the Kozuki clan. We stole this handgun from them, too. The bullets are made of the same material as Flint's sword. In other words, those bullets can't be blocked with haki."

Bonnie's fingers curled greedily around the gun handle. Bullets that couldn't be blocked by haki, or seastone, or anything.

Maybe this could kill Dragon after all.

"If you're telling the truth, prove it." Ada said as she got to her feet. "Shoot Dragon or Kuma with that. If you do, I'll tell you where your sister is, and welcome you as my comrade."

Bonnie gulped. Netty's location… If she could kill Dragon, Netty would run to her. She would have no one else to run to. It would be just the two of them. Just like old times.

She turned to Ada, to promise that she would succeed.

But Ada was gone. She had entered and exited into thin air, leaving nothing behind. Bonnie almost convinced herself it was a dream, but the cold weapon in her hands told her otherwise.

She placed the gun in her lap, folding her hands over it. She could do this. If she did, everything would go back to the way it was. The pain would go away, and her sisters heart would no longer belong to that monster.

She could fix everything with one bullet.

She smiled to herself, hopeful and relieved.

"Flint…" She said, overjoyed at his memory for the first time in months.

 **00000**

Ruka wasn't allowed out of bed.

But Makino stayed with her. Ruka could hardly move, and so Makino helped her to eat and drink. When the doctor came and had to unwrap Ruka's bandages, apply more medicine, and rewrap the bandages, it was Makino who held Ruka's hand. She repeatedly told her in a gentle voice to remain calm, even though a strange, unfamiliar man was basically undressing her.

Ruka wanted to kick his teeth in. But that was no way to treat a professional doctor, who was only looking for anything more serious. Besides he must've been the one to put the bandages on her the first time. Probably the village doctor, and Makino seemed to trust him.

Once she was out of her old bandages, into her new ones, drugged up, fed, and watered, Ruka finally felt a little stronger. Groggy and trembling, but able to sit up and turn around.

Makino seemed to figure out she liked silence, and disliked books. She didn't bring them with her any more, and she didn't talk much.

It couldn't have been more than a few hours, but it felt like days. Makino sat at the far edge of the room, eyes on Ruka, knees drawn to her chest. Ruka sat on the bed, leaning into the wall, cheek pressed against the material.

Dragon had taught her to identify a room by two things: underground or above ground, and wall material. Some walls were built to be sound proof, especially the ones underground. Rooms above ground usually smelled a certain way, and if they had windows, you could look out and try to figure out where you were.

Ruka was underground. The room was maybe four by four, no windows, one bed, one chair, and a flight of stairs.

She trusted Makino—she was a smart girl, motherly and protective. The people in this village had every reason to turn Ruka into the marines, but they'd hidden her instead. They'd called a doctor, given her food. They were trapping her here so she could rest.

So why was she so jittery? True, she couldn't move normally. But inside, it felt like carbonated water bubbled in every blood vessel, every limb and organ.

"Can we talk?" Makino piped up.

Ruka's head raised and turned with difficulty. Makino was looking out at her with earnest, playful eyes. When she spoke, it had been with kindness and curiousity, but mostly caution.

Ruka raised and lowered her shoulders in a shaky shrug.

Makino lowered one foot, then the other, and gripped the underside of her chair as she slipped off. She approached Ruka on silent feet, coming to stand beside her without touching the bed. Ruka watched Makino fold her arms behind her back, the edges of her mouth pulling up in a friendly smile.

"Blink twice for yes, once for no. Okay?" Makino asked, tilting her head in an awkward grin.

Ruka studied her carefully, the way Dragon would if he were injured and kept underground. The image of Dragon in this position infuriated her, while also serving to bring some light back into her eyes. At least it was she in this situation instead of him.

"We saw your wanted poster." Makino began, shifting uncomfortably. "So, I know your name. Ruka, right?"

Ruka blinked twice.

"Why did you fall from the sky?" Makino asked, then winced. "Ah, that wasn't a yes or no question. Umm… Is there some place you need to go?"

Ruka blinked twice and nodded.

"Is it somewhere in East Blue?" Makino asked hopefully.

Ruka blinked once.

"That's a problem." Makino admitted sadly. "We're just a small village. There's nothing here but a few fishing boats. We can't take you anywhere else."

Ruka shook her head fervently, then flinched and curled in on herself as a searing pain coaxed over her shoulders and down her spine. She gripped her shoulders and grit her teeth. Makino stood by, helpless, unable to do anything.

"Let's stop this." Makino decided, taking a seat at the far end of the bed. "Let me tell you more about where you are. Would that help?"

Ruka slumped against the wall, weak and tired, and blinked twice.

Makino started off with her village. It was extraordinarily small, she said. Even though it was apart of the Goa Kingdom, the most beautiful and renowned country in East Blue, they lived separate lives from the other citizens within the walled monarchy towns. But thanks to that, they enjoyed a unique peace others never lived to know.

Not that they lived entirely peaceful lives.

They made most of their money by selling fish and melons in High Town. Three weeks earlier, Makino's parents were out fishing in a little dinghy and were swept out to sea by a sudden riptide. Their bodies washed up on shore five days later. About half a year before that, a plague swept through the village. The adults, who were all hardworking fishermen or famers or handymen, fought it off with the help of some cheap herbal remedies. The children were not so lucky. Dubbed the "Children's Plague," Makino was the only living child their town had left. Her childhood friends and siblings were all dead.

"So now all the people still young enough to have kids, don't want to." Makino finished up, deathly still. "And all the rest are too old. And then there's me."

Ruka hooked her thumbs around each other and pulled. Her fingers and wrists were too weak for wringing, but her heart was aching. This was a nice place to live. If she and Bonnie had grown up here, they would've been nothing but happy.

"They saved me from the plague by hiding me down here for three months." Makino admitted.

Ruka's tensed. Her bright, dark eyes flickered up and met Makino's. She was young. Probably no older than fourteen.

"But our village has a low birth rate, and some of the grownups are a little worried. I miss my friends too. They would have liked you, you know. They always said nothing neat ever happened here."

There were heavy footsteps overheard, just then, and Makino whipped her head up. Ruka tensed and moved to crawl over the bed, but Makino showed a beaming grin and hopped to her feet. She closed the distance between the bed and the stairs and clambered up them like a bunny. Ruka heard the trap door open and shut with a bang, and Makino's cheerful voice, like sunbeams cutting through storm clouds, travelled through the ceiling.

"Garp-san! You're back!"

Garp…

Ruka mulled the name over in her head. She drew her name to her chest, drummed crooked fingers over her temple. Then, a memory clicked into place, like the clogs of gears meshing together to turn each other.

She recalled how the frosted air rub her skin raw. Dragon's rough fingers circled her wrist, pulled her behind him. Three pairs of eyes were on her, all of which changed from threatening to astonished instantaneously. One old face, a ring of gray hair circling the top of his head, turned pale and horrified, as he screamed out the only name that haunted him.

"Dragon's… father." Ruka uttered weakly, eyes shifting from internal conflict. Fight or flight, fight or flight?

The trapdoor opened, and heavy footsteps made the stairs creak.

Ruka moved too fast, tried to get to her feet, and hit the ground shoulder first. She locked her teeth together, not wanting to scream in front of the enemy.

But he was already there— _fast_!—already kneeling beside her. One of his large fists—no, hands, one of his hands, his fingers were uncurled—was on her back, to stop her from making another jump.

Ruka braced bandaged forearms against the ground, tilted her head back, looked up at the old man's face that was streaked with wrinkles.

She lowered bandaged eyebrows over cold eyes in a glare.

"Hey, girl." Garp said to her, gruffly and kindly. "How's Dragon?"

 **00000**

 **So was Doffy a better choice than Whitebeard? I'm kind of second guessing that one, but it fits the plot at least. Please review!**


	26. Chapter 25: Listen Makino

**Greetings all! After a four month long unannounced hiatus I have returned. About that, I cannot even begin to explain how sorry I am for making you all wait so long. In a nutshell, the problem was that this chapter 25 proved a lot harder to write than any other chapter so far. I must have gone through four or five different drafts for it, and each time I tried finding a more efficient, faster way of getting the story where I needed it to be. On top of that, I have had life problems. But here it is, after four long months! I hope it's everything you've waited for.**

 **Pleeeeeeeeeease review. I really need some motivation right now.**

 **00000**

A World of Difference

Chapter 25: Listen Makino

Ruka and Garp decided to talk in the bar. Makino helped Ruka up the stairs, and through the trapdoor. They chose the first table Ruka could reach, with Ruka taking one chair, and Garp taking the opposite one.

At first, a few of the tables were occupied by some old men. They sh potointed, questioning stares at Garp, like they were asking him "You okay? You need anything?" In answer, Garp nodded towards the bat-wing doors. Then everyone, Makino and the old lady barkeep included, cleared out.

Ruka blinked profusely, gripping the underside of her chair as she swept her feverish gaze over the tavern.

It was a small, simple, decent place. The bar was paired with tall, cushioned stools, and glasses were lined up on shelves on the back wall. The ceiling, walls and floor were all made of the same light wood, with the floor polished so finely she could see her reflection in it. Wanted posters were tacked to the walls between barred windows. She scanned each bounty, and found more than a few familiar faces. Outside the bright sun beat down on dusty, dirt-pathed streets and thin grass. A goat and chicken walked freely by, while a young woman with a head full of gray hairs and dead eyes beat the dust from an old rug. Ruka wanted to know why she looked so sad and serious, but there was no point in wondering. There couldn't be a good reason.

Ruka tried to take a second look at her surroundings and lurched where she sat, dropping her head into her hand. A skull-splitting ache had ebbed its way around her ear and rooted into her jaw. Her ears rang as colored spots danced in her eyes.

Garp set something in front of her—A little jar filled with a honey-colored jelly.

"That's from the old psychic granny on Paati Island." He told her seriously. "It's supposed to help heal you up."

Granny Prune Frog? How'd this old geezer know her? How'd he find her? Ruka needed to cover her tracks better.

Ruka dropped her head to the table, too tired to sit up, and eyed the jar suspiciously.

"I'm not gonna poison you." Garp promised point-blank. "And I'm not gonna turn you in, either."

Ruka scowled at him. There had to be a catch. Was he using her as bait, to lure Dragon in? What should she do if he was?

"It'll make it easier for you to talk." Garp said, pushing the jar towards her. "I don't poison people, little girl. I fight fair."

 _Little girl?_ Ruka hesitated. On the one hand, Dragon had told her he believed his father was different from the cruel system which promoted slavery and international censorship. On the one hand, he hadn't fought for Dragon like Flint and Ruka's cremates had. But on the other hand, he hadn't been directly responsible for every bad thing the World Government did. And going by his reaction in West Blue, he'd been both relieved and horrified to see his son alive. He'd suffered too.

But that didn't make him her ally.

In any case, she needed to get back to Dragon. That took top priority over anything else.

With that thought, she popped the lid off the jar with her thumb and poured the thick, gelatin-like mess into her mouth. She worked her teeth through it as her face changed colors from purple to green to blue. She swallowed with a shudder, groaning in disgust.

She felt instant relief. Suddenly the elephant-like mass that seemed to weigh her body down waned, and her throat, which had been feeling a lot like a molten-hot crumpled aluminum can until now, felt clear and relaxed. She opened and shut her mouth, working her jaw as she did, raised her bandaged palms to her face, and flexed her fingers.

"Huh." She said in surprise.

Garp chuckled a bit, then passed her a hand mirror. As he took another swig of rum, she was holding the mirror in front of her face, looking herself over.

Her face was almost entirely bandaged, save for her hair. Most of it had been burned away, but someone had obviously tended to it. Makino, perhaps, had shaved all the charred bits away, leaving her practically bald with thin, shaved hair and a skull covered in scabs. Ugh. She still had her teeth, which was good, though she could've sworn she'd lost a few on Ohara. What little she could see of her facial skin was burned and red.

"I look terrible." Ruka admitted begrudgingly, setting the mirror down. "But at least I can talk again. Thanks."

She set the mirror down and pushed it to the edge of the table.

Meeting Garp's eyes felt too confrontational. She didn't like how he looked at her either. Like they were thinking the same thing—that her being married to Dragon made them family, but neither of them felt like admitting that.

He chuckled halfheartedly, as if he were impressed.

"I thought you'd be more upset." He admitted, happy to be proven wrong. "Since you're a woman, and your face is all messed up."

"Dragon didn't marry me for my face." She said nonchalantly, but with confidence. "He _did_ like my hair longer. Now I have to grow it out again, which'll take forever, especially with my skull all scabby and disgusting."

He laughed his head off at that. She sighed haughtily, wondering what was so funny.

"Why are you helping me?" She asked, voicing her earlier thoughts. "What's the catch?"

Garp froze. He stared morosely at the table, like it was about to keel over and die or something. The edges of his mouth turned up, then drooped down in a quick smile.

"You helped him, didn't you?" He said, and it was more a reminder than a question.

Ruka knit her brow, scrunched her mouth up. She weighed the pros and cons of being honest here. Part of her wanted to lie, just to be nice, but somehow that didn't seem nice at all, really.

"Well you weren't going to." Ruka told him, feeling brave. "Actually, I get the feeling you can't. He thinks so too. But how do you know I helped him? You better not have told anyone."

Garp laughed, and this time it sounded genuine. "Don't worry! Nobody else knows! I just guessed, is all. When I met you two in West Blue, you fell from the sky to help him. I figured you must be on his side."

" _Okaaay_. But, how'd you know I was here?" She asked, drumming her fingers over the table. "Did Makino tell you?"

"No, it's not that." Garp denied gruffly. "This place is home to me. I was born here. Dragon was too, by the way, just not in this village. In a fancy hospital in Edge Town, beyond the mountains. I was avoiding it for a little while, after losing my family in that 'freak accident' the Gorosei cooked up, but after meeting up with you guys in West Blue… Well, I figured now was a good time to start spending more time here."

"Wait, you… You know about the Gorosei?" Ruka asked, astounded. "But… But how? I mean, nobody knows about that! They only told Dragon because they thought they were gonna kill him!"

"Well, it's not like a got all the details…" Garp said, looking out the window, towards the ocean. "Sengoku'll only tell me so much. Tsuru told me a little more, though. I'm not that clever, so I can't figure out the rest on my own. But I think I got the fine points down. I figured the only person who really knows what happened to Dragon is Dragon himself. I've been wanting to find him, and ask him about it. But… For some reason, ever since you two took off and started rebelling, I've felt these eyes on me. I had to take a couple of detours on the way here, and switch out with a double, just to make sure I wasn't being followed."

Ruka frowned, annoyed and frustrated. "Why… Why are you putting up with all that? I mean, they're just using you! You _know_ that, don't you? They don't care about you anymore than they cared about me! Or Dragon! Or Ohara! You can work for them until you die, but it's so not worth it."

"I'm not trying to get anything back." Garp said grimly, shutting his eyes. "But listen, Ruka, was it? Just like you can't betray Dragon, I can't turn my back on any of my friends either. We've been through too much together."

"Yeah, but still!" Ruka said, nearly pleading. " _Your own son_! Dragon… You get what they put him through, don't you? You of all people being on their side after everything, do you know how that makes him feel? We talk about it, but all he ever says is he can't do anything for you."

"That's true." Garp agreed. "But just because he can't do anything for me, doesn't mean I can't do anything for him."

Ruka softened, perplexed and doubtful . "What is that supposed to mean? Are you talking about being our guy-on-the-inside?"

"No, I already told you." Garp said sternly. "I won't betray the navy. But maybe I can help you, and Dragon, in another way."

Ruka leaned back, frowning at him questionably.

"You're, uh, not making any sense." She told him, sort of annoyed.

Garp locked eyes with her. "Listen, Ruka. I know you want to see Dragon again. So, I'll help you get a message to him."

"Wait, you can do that?" Ruka shouted, half-throwing herself forward in excitement. "But why? We're trying to bring down the navy!"

"All I'm doing is helping my family." Garp replied resolutely. "I've got no mercy for the enemy! But it's different with family."

Ruka slowly smiled, and threw herself back in her chair. She chuckled as tears of joy pooled in the corners of her eyes. She'd been so worried. Hiding underground after being blown half-to-hell, trying to figure out how long it would take her to heal up, find a proper ship, and race back to Dragon before that paw-pad woman found him or Bonnie turned on him or he started to think she was dead.

But if she could get a message out, then that changed everything. She could bring him to her, and then she could warn him about that crazy red-head with her paw-pads and why she was after him. If they fought together, they couldn't lose.

"How do we get a message to Dragon?" She asked urgently.

"We can use the news coo." Garp answered. "But it can't be anything obvious! If we get caught, everyone here'll be in danger too."

 _Makino_. Ruka had to protect her.

"Then maybe we can use something only Dragon will recognize." Ruka said, pinching her chin thoughtfully. "Like, in a picture. And then hide a message in the article beneath it. Oh!"

She immediately started unrolling the bandages around her ring finger, letting the cloth pull on her table. Glad to see her tattoo, at least, was unburned and whole, she waved her hand at Garp.

"What's that tattoo?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"Proof of our connection!" Ruka said with pride, clenching her fist. "Dragon will recognize this, no matter what! So, how do we get it in the newspaper?"

 **00000**

They spent the next ten minutes talking about what to include in the message, and how to make sure the picture would get Dragon's attention. Garp didn't think he could get it on the front page, but Ruka didn't care. Dragon would see it, no matter what, she just knew it.

Afterwards, Garp cleared out. Ruka and Makino stood on the front steps of Party's Bar, and watched him walk away. Ruka stretched her arms as high as possible and waved them in goodbye, while Makino stood by and giggled at her.

"I'm so happy you feel better, Ruka." She said cheerfully. "What did Garp-san give you?"

"A special medicine. From an old Granny in West Blue." Ruka said in answer, clenching her fists to her chest. "Man, I missed talking! Listen, Makino, not that I don't trust old man Garp, but I need to get going."

"What?!" Makino asked, distressed. "But you can't! You're still hurt all over!"

"I can't stay here waiting to be rescued!" Ruka stated strongly. "If I do, the wrong people will come for me. Pirates, bandits, navy spies. I've got too many enemies! Listen, I know you guys don't have anything but fishing boats, but this is still a major island in the East Blue. You've got to have trade ships, right?"

"Um… Well, yes of course we do." Makino answered, conflictingly. "But they don't stop here, they go to the Central Town port."

"Then that's where I need to go." Ruka said, punching her palm. "How do I get there?"

Makino hesitated, then pointed to the distant mountains.

"If we go to Mt. Corvo, there's an old path that'll take us over the mountain, to Gray Terminal." She explained, and Ruka checked out the mountains—they were pretty big. "But that path also connects the bandits' hideout to this village."

"What's Gray Terminal?" She asked curiously, hearing the anticipation in Makino's voice.

"Oh. Well, Gray Terminal is the lawless area." She answered, twiddling her fingers. "It's a mountain of garbage. Trash from all over the island gets dumped there twice a day, and the poor and the criminals live off of it. They have to eat the rotten food and sell whatever valuables they can find in the trash, so they're all really desperate."

"So I guess you've never been there, huh?" Ruka asked nonchalantly.

"None of us have." Makino answered, and it was obvious she was trying to prove something to Ruka. "We only ever go to Central Town to sell melons and fish, and when we do go we always sail to the port. Nobody goes up the mountain."

"Well, I'm going." Ruka decided firmly. "I'm not afraid of any mountain bandits. And I've been stuck underground since I got here. I need the exercise."

"Then I'll go with you!" Makino announced readily. "If you get lost in those mountains with your injuries, you could die."

"No." Ruka said adamantly, placing her hand on Makino's head, pressing her palm over Makino's forehead. "If it's as dangerous as you say, then there's no way I can take you with me. If we get attacked, and I have to protect the both of us, I might lose."

"Then… Then please just wait!" Makino begged, reaching up with both hands to grab Ruka's wrist. "Just wait four days. Garp-san left plenty of that medicine behind, so if you keep drinking it, then you'll feel better and stronger by then. And I can borrow some of the food and pack it away for you, and draw a map so you don't get lost."

"I can't read maps too well." Ruka confessed. "It's probably not worth it."

"Please!" Makino begged, desperately.

Ruka curled her lips back and hummed, conflicted. On the one hand, she really didn't want to spend too much time here, and end up losing Dragon. But on the other, Dragon wasn't a kid like Makino. And he would never surrender his life to anyone. That would mean betraying all the promises they'd made to each other.

And if she ran off now, when she still felt sort of sluggish and dazed, she might wear herself down in the mountains and get eaten by wild animals or killed by bandits. If she was going to be climbing over mountains and piles of garbage, and fighting, then she needed her strength back. And supplies, and disguises, so that when she looked like herself again no one would recognize her.

"Four days, Makino." She agreed. "But not a minute longer."

 **00000**

 _ **Four Days Later**_

Ruka spent the next few days doing rehab, eating as much food as she could, and resting. Makino, who worked as an assistant in Party's Bar, would sneak whatever non-perishable food she could get her hands on and carefully pack it away in an old bag. She stored other things, too, like fresh water, medicine and bandages.

Ruka took one jar of medicine a day, and each time it tasted more disgusting than before. Still, she felt stronger, more like her old self. But whatever was in that medicine was also dangerous. She healed remarkably fast, with new skin growing in over her healed burns, and some of her hair growing back.

By the night of the fourth day, her hair had grown into a shaggy, tousled mess that consumed her ears and hung in her face. All of her wounds were gone, and she didn't even have any scars. She was strong… Enough. But getting the rest of her strength back would take time. It was possible that healing so fast might have actually weakened her. She hoped that wasn't it.

Ruka stretched out on the stripped, squeaking mattress. She arched her back, then straightened out and curled into a ball. She was still wearing the same clothes from four days ago, because Makino washed them every day. And because they were mighty comfortable, and baggy and tomboyish, which was essentially her entire wardrobe.

"Hmmm!" Ruka moaned comfortably, rubbing dry fingers through messy, light-brown hair to scratch the back of her head.

"I'm happy you're feeling better." Makino congratulated warmly. She stood at Makino's bedside, holding a platter of stacked bowls and plates. "Wait here, okay? I'll go and come right back with some water to wash down the last of that medicine."

Ruka made a face at that, then cast her eyes on the last jar. It was pressed between the mattress and wall, balanced on the edge of the metal bed frame. She was grateful to the old man for bringing it to her, but at the same time she couldn't help but wonder: how had Granny Prune Frog known she was so badly hurt? Weren't her psycho-visions supposed to be vague and smoky? Had they become clearer somehow? What would that mean?

Makino tread quietly down the stairs and swept over to Ruka's side, holding a cup of water. Ruka leaned back with her arms up, like she was going to do some crunches, then swung bolt upright. She took the cup in one hand, the jar in the other. Without a second thought, she popped the lid off the jar, downed the gooey mess, hacked half it down, then gulped down the water.

Ruka gasped, teary-eyed from disgust. "Ugh! I just can't get used to that. _Bleh_!"

"It's so strange." Makino said curiously, taking both jar and cup from Ruka and holding them up to her eyes. "I've never heard of medicine that can heal third-degree burns in just a few days."

"Nah, it's not all that weird." Ruka disagreed as she worked her pinky into her left ear. "I've seen way weirder stuff that that."

"Does that mean… If my friends and I had lived where you did, they might still be alive?"

Makino was making a sad, thoughtful, guilty face. Like she'd killed 'em all herself.

Ruka threw her hand out, pointed at Makino's nose. Makino was startled stiff, and clutched both jar and cup to her chest.

"Stop that! It's no good asking 'what-if's' and making yourself sad." She ordered, and Makino nodded fervently in agreement.

"More importantly," Ruka said with a sigh, dropping her arms between her knees and looking at Makino in a hopeless and questioning way, "You've been spending a lot of time with me down here. Isn't there anything you want to do or somewhere you want to go?"

Makino set the dishes on the floor and took a seat beside Ruka on the bed. She folded her knees to her chest and crossed her arms over her knees.

"All the adults are still sad over what happened to my friends." She explained knowingly. "They'd never say it out loud, but I can feel their eyes on me. Looking at me reminds them of everyone who died. Sometimes I think I should just leave, but I've nowhere else to go."

Ruka scowled at Makino, then grit her teeth and looked up at the ceiling.

"What the heck?" She said, unable to help herself. "If you don't like it, tell 'em off. Remind 'em who you really are. You're nobody's ghost, kiddo."

Makino looked at Ruka openly. "Ruka-san, how can you be so confident? Your problems are tens of hundreds times bigger than mine. Why do you care?"

"Life's too short to not go after what you want." Ruka answered softly. "Understand? It's true, we all go down with a few things we regret, but I'd rather my regrets come from risks I had to take to get what I want."

"Are you really going to head to the Highland tomorrow?" Makino asked sadly, as she pouted.

"Mm-hm. I gotta do whatever it takes to get back to him." Ruka crossed her arms, clutched her upper-arms. "You'll understand one day, Makino, when you find someone who needs you. And when you do, make sure you stick by them, no matter who they are, or where they come from."

"I don't like this. You sound like you're saying goodbye."

"Cause I am." Ruka answered, raising one arm and rolling her shoulder.

"Ruka, please, please don't go through the Gray Terminal." Makino begged, unfolding her legs and looking at Ruka with pleading eyes. "Just steal one of our boats and sail to Central Town port! It's not safe in Gray Terminal, and if you get into a fight, you could undo all of your rehabilitation."

"I said no, Makino." Ruka said sternly, and leaned back on her hands. "I got this hunch that I gotta go through the forest."

"Ruka, please." Makino pleaded, looking away, then back up at Ruka. "You've got a bounty on your head. And those people in Gray Terminal would love to catch you and turn you in. They might be people, but they don't always act like it. Many of them are murderers. And the people in the highland are dangerous, too. They hate anything with even a speck of dirt on it. If they see you, they'll treat you like some disease. It's terrible."

"You sound like you've been there before." Ruka prompted, proceeding over Makino's varied warnings.

Makino nodded. "I've gone with Garp-san. Sometimes he meets his marine friends there. But that's not the point. The highland is too close to the palace, and there are so many rules—"

"Ugh, are you even listening?!" Ruka snapped, clutching the top of Makino's head. "Listen Makino, I may be a revolutionary now, but before that I was a pirate. And before that, a thief. However way you slice it, I've never followed the rules."

Makino looked up at Ruka with great, big, teary baby doe eyes and Ruka cringed back, squinting and pressing her lips together as she tried to resist the guilt. This girl was way too cute. Ruka had never been too interested in cute stuff, but that didn't stop Makino from burrowing deep into Ruka's heart and nesting there, like it was where she belonged.

"Look," Ruka said, relenting, "Maybe you should come with me after all—"

"WHAT?!"

Both Ruka and Makino jumped a foot in the air, then froze on the edge of the mattress. Slowly, they turned to see the old barkeep, who was also Makino's gramma, standing at the foot of the stairs. She was a beefy old hag, with long dark hair streaked in gray, and big, cute eyes like Makino's. Only hers were warped by pain and hatred, and framed in mounds of wrinkles.

Ruka stared blankly at her. The old hag always came down ten or twenty times every few hours to check on Makino. It was obvious she was protective of Makino—all the villagers had to be—but the old hag had this way of looking at Ruka like she was a stray cat covered in sick or something.

She'd obviously heard what Ruka had said, because she. Was. Livid. She marched right up to Ruka, towering over her and breathing meat-and-rum breath over her. Ruka leaned back, putting one arm up to shield her face from the rancid smell.

"Listen here, Outsider." Gramma snarled, pulling Ruka's gaze up into a boiling glare. She jabbed a finger at Ruka's face, as if it were the most inconvenient thing ever. "What you do with that… That… Traitor husband of yours, that's your business. But don't you dare involve this little girl in any of your crimes. You do that, and I'll be the first one to call the Marines down here."

Ruka shook so badly the bed trembled. _Traitor_? If she had been any other old woman, Ruka would've judo-flipped her into the wall. But Makino was sitting in apprehension, looking at Ruka like she expected just that, and silently begged Ruka not to.

So Ruka mentally withdrew from the situation, sitting there in steaming, dazed silence as the old hag turned and stomped back up the stairs. As soon as she was gone, Ruka came back to herself so quickly she couldn't think straight. She made a fist and slammed it back into the wall, making dust fall from the ceiling.

"Why that insufferable, croaky old—!" Ruka cursed, stopped, breathed, and stood. She took a few steps away, rubbed her temples, and tried to calm down.

The people in this village were weird. Not bad, just weird. Makino's parents were both dead, so the old fuddy-duddy barkeep had had to bury her own kid. So, did the farmers who came into the bar every day, got drunk, and kicked up a racket. Ruka only ever left her underground room for the bathroom or some fresh air. But when she did, the drunks always flirted with her, offering her chairs and seats and food.

What sort of anguish did they have to live with after burying all the children in the village? Makino must be like treasure to them.

"Why did Gramma say that?"

"Hmm?" Ruka prompted, twisting to look at Makino, who was perched on the edge of the bed with a question in her eyes. She was watching the stairs, as if she were about to fly up them herself.

"Why did Gramma call your boyfriend a traitor?" Makino asked.

Ruka cringed, shuddered. " _Husband_. And he's not a traitor. Old gasbags like her wouldn't understand."

"Understand what?" Makino asked in a sing-song voice. "Did your boyfriend do something wrong?"

" _Husband_." Ruka corrected, with increased animosity. She opened her mouth, defensive, then shut it and looked away, conflicted. "Well… Everyone's done something wrong. Look, what happened to Dragon is… _Complicated_. And not something I like to talk about, so don't ask."

"Why don't you want to talk about it?" Makino pressed.

"Just cause."

"Is it because I'm a child?"

Ruka paled. "NO! I mean… Makino, I'm not like your Gramma. Or old man Garp. Or any of these stupid villagers. I know how it feels to lose all your family and friends in one fell swoop. And I _don't_ think of you as just a kid. If they seriously think you're still under the delusion that the world is a safe, tolerable place, then that's their shame."

She didn't think much of the old folks in this place. The one's that weren't catatonic and grief-stricken were always so serious. Ruka had only walked out a few times, but whenever she did, she could feel the judging eyes boring into her back. She could hear the whispers. Garp was a hero, Ruka an outsider, and Dragon a traitor.

"So, is Dragon a traitor?" She asked cleverly.

"No, he isn't." Ruka answered impatiently. "If anyone's been betrayed, it's us. But don't worry about that. I already said I didn't want to talk about this."

"Why'd you get mad at Gramma, then?"

"You _know_ why. You heard her."

"But they were just words. You don't need to react to them."

Ruka looked livid, and her tone turned icy cold: " _Yes, I did._ No matter what you owe someone, it doesn't mean you should let them walk all over you. If this whole set up has those sorts of conditions, then I'll leave right now and I won't come back."

"Then what do you want?" Makino asked. "What does Dragon want?"

Ruka groaned in aggravation through gritted teeth. Apparently, she wasn't going to be able to avoid talking about Dragon.

"Dragon just wants to change the world." Ruka answered, stalking back to bed and plopping down next to Makino.

Makino paused, blinked curious doe eyes. "Ruka… You don't sound like the sort of person whose interested in what happens to the world."

How did Makino knew her so well after only four days?!

"I'm not! But this is what Dragon wants!" Ruka answered matter-of-factly. "His whole life he had no freedom whatsoever. He's finally out, and this is what he wants to do. _So_ , I decided I would help him, even though he said I didn't have to."

" _Soooo_ … You're not interested in the world... But you want to help Dragon?"

"Bingo."

"Hmm… I guess I understand that." Makino said quietly as she smoothed out her dress. "But how do you know whatever 'change' Dragon causes won't destroy the world?"

"I'm going to help him anyway." Ruka answered, stubborn.

"Even if it means destruction?"

"We don't know that'll happen." Ruka said, shooting Makino a challenging look. "But I do know doing nothing will mean more destruction."

"Really?"

"Yes!" Ruka exclaimed. She couldn't tell her about Ohara or Noa Kingdom. "The world is the opposite of freedom. The world doesn't care what you've been through, or what you're going through, or how you die." She looked Makino right in the eye. "All my friends died, too. And my captain. My parents were weak, defeated people that I couldn't rely on. This whole place is crazy! It's irrational! If I don't become stronger and keep fighting back, everyone I love will die again."

"Oh… I get it." Makino said with newfound understanding. "Dragon fights to save the world, but you fight to save him."

"Yeah, so?" Ruka asked, dropping her chin into her hands. "You gonna call me a selfish, rotten person?"

Makino giggled. "I don't think you're selfish. Or rotten. You're just… Honest. Just a nice, honest, human person."

Ruka didn't know how to respond to that, so she just sat there and blushed a little. It was nice and honest to choose the ones you loved over the entire world? It was okay to live the way she did, with all her priorities focused on just three people? _That_ was humane?

"So are you worried about Dragon?" Makino asked, apparently intent on keeping up the chitchat.

"Yeah, there are some bad people after him." Ruka explained, dismal. "He's super tough, and he promised me wouldn't surrender his life to anybody, but these bad people are tough too. And determined."

"But wouldn't you know if he… You know, died?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Wouldn't you be able to sense it? Since the two of you are bonded?"

Ruka made a face at that. "That's just a myth. Nobody can sense when anyone else dies."

Saying that reminded her of her mother. Her mom, whom had been dragged away to slavery and shot by Dragon, and she never felt a thing. Then there was her crew… A loss like that should've felt like a punch in the heart or worse, but she'd felt nothing until she was standing there, looking at them.

"But Garp-san is going to help you contact Dragon, right?" Makino asked happily. "Then he'll come to get you, and you can fight the bad people together."

Ruka held a finger up to Makino. "I'm not just gonna sit here and wait for him to pick me up. That was in the message I gave to Garp to put in the newspaper. I'm gonna leave this place and meet Dragon somewhere else. Somewhere more crowded, where we won't be spotted so easily. But in order to do that, I need to go to highland and steal some treasure so I can pay for safe passage."

"Safe passage to where?"

"That secret stays with me."

"Okay, but Ruka, can you promise me something?"

"Hm?" Ruka hummed, looking at Makino curiously.

"Promise me you'll stay out of trouble." Makino requested, placing a hand over Ruka's forearm. "It's true your wounds have healed, but something as convenient as that must leave you physically exhausted."

Was that true? Was that why she was having trouble finding her full strength?

"So, if anyone tries to attack you, run away, okay?" Makino asked, fingers curling over Ruka's arm.

Ruka reached over and mussed Makino's hair. "Okay, okay, fine. I'll keep out of trouble."

"Makino!" Called the old barkeep from above, and they both looked up. "Time for chores! And then bed! Get up here, girl, while there's still light out!"

Ruka stared pointedly in the old woman's direction. It was a little early to start prepping for bed. The sooner Ruka got away from her, the better.

Makino hopped up—"Coming, Gramma!"—and turned, suddenly throwing her arms around Ruka. Makino hugged her tightly for a moment before Ruka, taken aback, slowly put her arms around the girl and hugged her back.

"Promise you won't go without saying goodbye." Makino asked pleadingly.

"Ah… Yeah, sure." Ruka promised, a tad confused.

Makino pulled away and, without saying or doing anything else, picked up her skirts and raced up the stairs and out of sight.

Ruka slowly lowered her arms, then reached up and rubbed the back of her neck.

"I'm getting in too deep here, Dragon." Ruka said wistfully, wishing he could hear her somehow. "I kinda wish she would come with me."

But that was too crazy. A little kid like that who didn't even know how to throw a punch? In the state Ruka was in now, she was going to have trouble protecting herself, and shielding someone else was going to make it ten times harder.

But who knew? She might just come along, after all. It had been a while since Ruka had met anyone whom she could trust.

She threw herself back onto the bed, with her legs hanging over the side and one hand touching the wall. She sighed to herself, and raised her ring finger over her face. She stared at the tattoo.

Whatever else happened, she needed to get stronger, fast. Or else she was just going to be overwhelmed by that paw-pads woman again. And she was so tough, she might actually hurt Dragon.

Ruka lowered her hand to her face, nestling her ring finger over her nose bridge.

"Wait for me." She asked.

She laid there, feeling the candlelight dance on her cheeks. Slowly she sank into a peaceful sleep, and tried to remember how she'd felt before, when she was just a pirate pretending to be a man.

 **00000**

Ruka woke as if struck by lightning, and sat bot upright, back rigid and heart racing. Her throat was tight and dry; she couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow. With her mouth hanging open, she tried desperately to breathe in, but she was sweating and shaking like she had just finished running for her life.

She looked around the room, lit by blazing candlelight, and tried to relax and think. She tried focusing on the dying candle, already half-melted away, and the waterfall of wax that fell from it's perch on the crates to the foot of the stairs. She felt her heart lurch in her chest, and her head was tight, like it was full of pressurized air. But she stared at the candle for several seconds until she calmed down.

With both hands, she pulled the collar of her shirt over her nose and breathed deeply. She had never awoken from pure alarm before. She'd gone dreamless again, so it hadn't been the work of a nightmare. She was alone in the room, so no one had tried to sneak up on her.

And then, with a flinch, she felt it. Her shoulders shook, and her eyes grew wide with dread and rage.

It was a bit like that feeling she got at the end of nightmares, just before she woke up. The point of maximum terror, where she would hope and pray for it to be a dream, and force herself awake.

But she knew what she felt was real this time.

It was a horde of beast like creatures. Over a dozen of them, and they were standing at the outskirts of the village. She didn't know how, but she could see them in their head, where they were positioned, and she knew in her gut they were up to something abhorrent, she knew it. And without thinking, she threw her legs over the bed and leapt to the stairs, crawling up them on all fours as quietly as possible.

She flipped the trapdoor open and slipped out, quietly shutting it behind her. She climbed the rest of the stairs to the top floor. At the top of the stairs was a hallway with three different doors, one at each end and one on the connecting wall. She tried a random one, and through a stroke of luck, found Makino awake in bed.

Makino was already awake for whatever reasons, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes. Ruka flew to her, knelt beside her, and grabbed her forearms. Makino practically jumped out of her skin, before she looked at Ruka, as recognition dawned in her moonlit eyes.

"Wha—?" Makino started, groggy and nervous, but Ruka placed a hand over her mouth.

With her free hand, Ruka shushed her, and pulled her from bed. She kept a firm hold on Makino's wrist and dashed silently down the steps, to the trapdoor, throwing it open without a thought and urging Makino into it. She descended willingly, though confused and growing more concerned by the moment. But Ruka couldn't explain until they were safe and hidden. She pulled the door shut, and jumped silently to the bottom of the steps. Makino stood there, and took a step towards Ruka, needing an explanation.

"Ruka, what's going on?" Makino asked, worried, her gaze flickering up momentarily to where her sleeping Gramma was.

Ruka shushed her again, then grabbed her shoulders, and walked her back to the bed. She made her sit down, then ran back to the candle. She leaned over it, and was about to snuff it out, when guilt gripped her like an old grudge. She gulped, then twisted to look at Makino, who was slowly putting the pieces together. Ruka gave Makino a look of deepest regret—"I'm sorry."—before blowing it out.

The room went pitch black, but Ruka could still see, and sense, Makino's sudden burst of fear. It made Ruka's hair stand on end, and she knew she was going to regret this even if it was her only option.

They heard it then, and were petrified. Boots, heavy boots so dense half the floor creaked. And laughter, smug and malicious, from a voice neither of them had heard before. The heavy footfalls crossed the bar floor, and were going in the direction of the stairs.

Makino, brave and loving, threw her head back, and opened her mouth. She was going to shout, to warn her Gramma. It was what anyone would do.

Ruka didn't let her.

Ruka tackled her to the bed, covering Makino's mouth with both hands and pinning her down with both arms. Ruka could feel Makino's tears run down her palms, and was almost crushed by the helplessness of their situation. She could only grit her teeth, squeeze her eyes shut and mutter repetitive apologies to a young girl who'd already been through so much without having to endure a midnight siege on her precious hometown.

What happened next was too awful to ignore. The ceiling shuddered as a door somewhere upstairs was thrown open. Deft footfalls rushed over the wood, making the walls tremble. Gramma started screaming. Awful, blood-curdling, terrified screams in between desperate, mercy-pleading demands of— _"Where's my granddaughter? WHERE'S MAKINO?! Whereisshe?!"_ —And Ruka tried desperately to keep her rage in check, but it came flooding out anyway, throbbing in her very bones and burning in her eyes that stared, relentlessly at the corner of the ceiling where the most noise was concentrated.

There was a booming thud and sounds of a struggle, and Ruka knew Gramma had been dragged out of bed. Gramma grunted and cried out in pain as she was pulled down the stairs, causing multiple thuds. It was so noisy, but Ruka could clearly hear her that they were cracking her freaking bones. An old woman who was more concerned about her missing grandchild than her life. Ruka was going to _gut_ them.

By the time the struggle reached the bar, Makino was in tears. Pinned underneath Ruka's strong arms, she had wriggled and pulled at anything she could get her hands on, trying desperately to get out. Her muffled screams had left Ruka's hand covered in spit and blood. Even though there was no light, and they could barely see, Ruka knew Makino was staring at her, begging her to let her out.

But she couldn't. If she did, Makino would rush upstairs to save her Gramma. And rather than saving anyone, she would be killed right before the old woman's eyes. And Ruka couldn't go save her without being followed by Makino. If Makino wanted to hate her for it, then so be it.

They stayed, silent and safe underground.

Overhead, Gramma was dragged out of the bar, and out into the street. The village erupted with the screams of the villagers, and Ruka knew the same was happening in every house.

But it took all of twenty minutes for the whole place to be deathly quiet again.

It was a small village after all.

 **00000**

 _"Why did you that?!"_ Makino demanded, devastated. "Why didn't you let me out?!"

Ruka slapped a hand over her mouth and shoved her into the wall. Makino wept, her tears crawling over Ruka's fingers and falling to the floor. Her arms, all but limp, shook against the wall as her eyes forced an explanation from Ruka.

 _"You have to be quiet!"_ Ruka whispered urgently, pushing her face right in front of Makino's, so the girl could look at nothing but her. "Otherwise, they'll hear us, and kill us, and then there won't be any hope for your Gramma, or the mayor, or anyone else! Please!"

Makino paused. She shuddered, hiccupped, and, while digging her fingers into the wall, froze.

Ruka breathed deeply, and slowly stepped away, taking her hands off the girl. Makino stared up at her, sobbing through clenched teeth and weeping all over her red and blue face. She'd have bruises later. Ruka hadn't meant to hurt her when she tackled her, but what was done was done.

Ruka panted, the events of the last few moments rushing through her mind. Without a second thought, she fell to her knees and slumped, shaking, her head bowed so her chin touched her chest.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She admitted, more furious at herself than she'd ever been. "If there'd been enough time, I would've gotten you both down here! But I could only save one of you and I knew the old lady would have told me to choose you, so I did! I only had enough time to get to one of you!"

Makino curled her lips back and shut her eyes, as the tears poured like rain. Ruka knew—she knew she didn't want to lose anyone else. Ruka felt the same when it came to Dragon. If something happened to him, on top of losing Flint and everyone else, it would crush her, just as Makino was crushed now.

"But it's not over yet." Ruka followed up, and they both raised their heads and looked into each other's eyes. Ruka's eyes held fight and flame, but Makino's were questioning the very existence of hope. "Listen up, Makino! You and me are gonna save the others."

Makino pressed herself against the wall. "N-No. We can't, there's no way. Just wait for Garp-san to—"

"There's no way he'll make it in time." Ruka stated, getting to her feet. "This out of the way little village doesn't even get trade ships. You said so yourself, the only ones who come here are the occasional bandits or pirates. And on top of that, we're trapped between mountains and sea. There's no way anybody else heard those screams." Ruka combed her hair back, wiped the sweat and dirt from her face with the back of her hand, and gave Makino a determined look. "Got it? If we don't fight, here and now, they'll all be dead by morning."

"You—You're lying!" Makino accused, horrified and frantic. "They went to the trouble of dragging everyone out of bed. If they wanted to kill them, they would've done it already."

"Quit playing dumb!" Ruka whispered in her face. "I don't have time to point everything out to you! I know this sorta situation is way out of the ordinary, so you might be having trouble thinking, but you're too smart to not know! If they want them alive, it can't be for a good reason, and it isn't going to last!"

Makino flinched, turning deathly pale.

"I lost my mom and my dear, dear, childhood friend to slave traders, Makino." Ruka explained grimly. "And I grew up in a town where I only saw repulsive crap. My entire crew was slaughtered, my captain was shot in the neck and killed, my close friend's entire home was razed to the ground by cannon fire—get it? The world isn't the safe, tolerable place you used to believe it was! Do you want everyone you love to die again?"

Makino buried her face in her hands. "No!"

"Good, neither do I." Ruka clapped both hands on Makino's shoulders, and forced her to kneel with her. "I've got a plan, but I need your help!"

 _"Why do I have to help you?"_ Makino sobbed, tears leaking through her fingers.

"Because there's no one else." Ruka explained, tough and relentless. "And because I haven't been out of this room that much and I don't know the layout of this village."

"I'll draw you a map!"

"I can't read maps!"

"My family and friends watch over this village!" Makino declared, lifting her head at last. "A miracle will happen! You'll see!"

Ruka's expression turned white-hot and murderous. Makino saw the rage there and leaned as far back as she could. But it was no good—Ruka lashed out and slapped her across the face. As hard as she could.

Makino caught herself, bracing one arm against the ground to keep from slamming into it. She shuddered a few times, and turned her head, raising one hand to place it over her scraped, burning cheek. She looked at Ruka, so surprised her mind had drawn a complete blank. Ruka was pretty certain no one had ever hit her before.

But Ruka couldn't help it. She needed to grasp the situation.

"What the hell are you doing? Do you think this is a game?" Ruka growled, and Makino drew back, frightened. "Do you think, in the morning, you'll wake up in bed and everything'll be fine? That you'll just eat your breakfast, do your chores, and read your books like you do every day?"

Makino let this sink in. Subtle doubt grew in her eyes, until they blank and empty, like she was floating in empty space.

"Makino, whatever you believe about the afterlife," Ruka started, eyes crinkling in a pained expression, "The reality is, the dead can only act through you! So, unless you act to save everyone's lives, no one will. This is the great pirate era. Excuses aren't worth anything here. You need more guts than that if you want to protect anyone, including yourself. Don't ever forget it."

Ruka reached down and grabbed Makino by the shoulders, helping her to sit up. She held her at arms-length, this little girl with no muscle, but a firm back and scarred hands and a good head on her shoulders. She didn't want her to die—but she didn't want her to lose herself either.

"I know it's scary, and unfair, but that's life." Ruka promised, giving Makino a firm look. "In order to save anyone, you need to be willing to risk everything you have. And right now, all you have to risk is our lives."

"I don't—don't understand—" Makino began.

"Well, tough!" Ruka hissed, cutting her off angrily. "I don't have any more time to debate this with you! So, choose! Who do you want to protect? Yourself? Or them? Pick one, you can't have both!"

Makino trembled. She clenched her fist to her chest, and spent the next several minutes in deep thought. Ruka got impatient, and shook her several times, silently reminding her there—was—no—time.

Then, at last, Makino uncurled her lips and smiled, as if forcing herself to be brave. She dried her eyes, and when she opened them again there was no more excuses, or evasions, just quiet fear, and promises. And perhaps a prayer.

"What do you need me to do?"

Ruka almost sank back in relief. She smiled, feeling and looking too proud for her own good, and commended Makino.

"That's my girl."

 **00000**

Ruka belly-crawled over sand-paper and wood beams to the topmost ridge. She braced herself there, digging the sides of her shoes into the roof and curling her fingers over the ridge. The cover of night pressed in on her from all sides, but a clear sky and full moon hung over the village. She was hidden, and barely visible from the raiders' perspective. But if they noticed her, it was all over.

The villagers were lined up in front of Party's Bar. They were all forced to sit on their knees, with their heads bowed and their fingers laced behind their necks. Ruka noticed the mayor, Woop Slap, was much further from her than Makino's Gramma, who was still trembling as she kept her angled gaze focused on the bar doors. For all that the old woman appeared furious, she also seemed relieved.

The raiders were pirates. The moonlight illuminated the shoreline, where their trashed ship was docked. It had evidently seen battle, as it was missing the top half of its mast and was so full of holes it had sunk a few feet from shore.

There were about two dozen of them. Each of them wore the same smug, crazed expression, as if they had all gone made. Ruka could guess what happened. They'd suffered a devastating defeat, probably lost some men, and most of their ship. Which meant they were without food or supplies of any sort, and they were in sore need of an ego boost. And food. Plundering a small, isolated little village like Fuusha could solve both their problems.

Ruka reached around, to her hip, and pulled out a small dagger. She rolled onto her back and raised it to her eyes, looking it over faithfully. The leather handle, the two names carved into it.

 _Sazu. Shiro._

It was Dragon's.

She had been surprised, moments ago, when she and Makino had snuck upstairs without breathing and raided the bar for anything they could use as a weapon. The old barkeep had been keeping a shotgun hidden behind the counter. Ruka had the gun strapped to her back now, fully loaded, currently locked on safety, with a few more rounds hidden in her clothes.

But the dagger had taken her by surprise. It had been under some floorboards, so Gramma must've known what it was. Ruka didn't know when or how it came to be here, but that it was here… Well, she wasn't usually one to believe in signs. But her tattoo had survived the fire, and now the knife was here… It was like Dragon was with her.

She held the knife close to her chest. Pirates. All of them were twice her size, with rippling muscles and desperate agendas. Most of which were holding guns to the heads of different villagers, one of which was Gramma, and another, the mayor.

Ruka was healed, but recuperating, and lacking her full strength. She was outnumbered, outgunned, and her only ally was one small girl who'd probably never even thrown a punch.

She gripped the sword hilt, and looked at the stars.

 _Dragon,_ she thought, _I'm gonna need to borrow some of your strength._

She took a deep breath, then carefully crawled back down the roof, and hopped to the ground without making a sound.

She landed in a crouch, with her fingertips braced against the ground.

On the other side of the village, about three houses back from where the pirates had herded the villagers, Makino was hiding in an upstairs room.

The first thing they'd done after reaching an agreement was open the crates in Ruka's underground room. There'd been three of them, stacked together, from the moment she was there. She'd never thought to open them before, but when the bar provided nothing but a gun and a knife, they'd had no choice.

A knife required being quick, close, and experienced. A gun required safety, aim, and good judgement. Makino could not use these weapons. She was too sweet, too docile. She was too inexperienced to be able to kill someone. She would hold back, because she didn't really want to hurt anyone, and then she would be killed because these men had no qualms about killing _everyone_.

But the crates were helpful. One was full of medical supplies, which included several bottles of alcohol and some strong thread for sewing. Another held cooking supplies, including knives and meat cleavers. And the last held festival stuff, including firecrackers.

 _This'll work._ Ruka had decided. _We can use the alcohol and the firecrackers to make bombs. And I can take the knives and thread._

 _Ruka… I don't want to kill anyone._ Makino expressed, sorrowfully.

 _You won't have to._ Ruka told her bluntly. _But don't hesitate to do everything I say, or else you'll get us killed to. All people must fight, Makino._

Not all fights were physical. Makino won the fight against the disease that stole the lives of over half her people. She won out against the grief of that massive loss. She was strong. She could do this.

Ruka hugged the wall and turned her head, looking out to sea. There was just a sliver of light over the horizon, and the sky was starting to change from dark blue to periwinkle. That was the signal, the only one available to them. As soon as Makino saw the break of dawn, she had to act.

 _Boom…!_

Ruka grinned and looked around the corner, towards where Makino was. Through an alley that cut between six different houses, she saw her flee to safety.

 _Use this!_ Ruka had told her, after tying together several firecrackers and dipping the ends in three different bottles of alcohol. _Sneak this over to the edge of the village, and light it. Wait, no, take it inside someone's house and light it._

 _What, no, I can't!_ Makino had exclaimed, shocked.

 _It's just a house!_ Ruka had scolded. _There's no material thing in this world worth dying for. Plus, if we use a house instead of just land, then the villagers will be so devastated, that the pirates will have to believe they had nothing to do with it_.

Sure enough, the house Makino had chosen, which belonged to the mayor, had a room fully consumed by flames. It looked like a giant torch, and she could feel the intense heat burn in her cheeks from here.

Ruka jerked from the wall when she noticed her shoulders shaking. She folded her arms over her chest and clutched them in her hands, forcing herself to be calm. It was just a little fire this time. So long as she stayed away from it, she would be fine.

No, no she wouldn't be fine. She was planning something crazy here.

"MY _HOUSE_!" Woop Slap screamed, and Ruka leaned forward to see he had jerked out of position to look on his torched home with horror.

Makino had decided that the old mayor, if he had been with them, would've chosen his home to burn. That way the others would be safer.

But the pirates were in a frenzy. They were all shouting at each other.

"Where'd that fire come from?"

"I don't know!"

"We got everyone here! It must be a candle!"

 _"Candles don't explode!"_

"WHERE'S YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER?!"

Ruka glared at the last voice, and knew someone was trying to shake the answers out of Gramma right now. Even if she had none to give.

Ruka reached into her pocket and slipped her finger through the hole in a roll of medical thread. She raised it to her teeth and bit down on the loose end, drawing her finger away to pull the thread loose. She pulled until she had several feet of loose thread, then bit it off from the roll. She tied one end through the hole in Dragon's dagger, and swung it at top speed at her side.

Then she ran, around to the other side of the house where one of the pirates were standing. He was staring out at the fire, leaving his back free. Ruka rushed him, increasing the speed at which she swung the knife in circles at her side. She spun on her feet, and threw the knife out. It flew several feet before burying itself in the pirate's shoulder blade, pulling a screeching yelp of agony from his mouth just as the mayor's house exploded in on itself, drowning out the pirate's scream.

Ruka yanked on the thread with a grunt, pulling the pirate into the alley with her. He came flying at her, and she pulled the shotgun off her shoulders, holding it behind her like a bat and swinging the butt into the side of his head when he was close enough.

There was a very loud, audible crack, and the pirate hit the ground. Either dead or unconcious.

Ruka looted his pockets without hesitation. The others, pirates and villagers alike were too distracted by a another explosion inside the mayor's house to notice her.

But she kept her ears open and her haki active. And she could feel how Gramma was becoming increasingly more worried. Then there was Makino, whose presence was positioned scary-close to the street.

Ruka felt a spark of worry, temporarily distracting her from the dead pirate. She'd warned Makino not to let herself be seen or captured. But before, it had taken all of Ruka's current strength to keep the girl from rushing upstairs to certain death.

Ruka finished raiding the pirate's pockets and ran back behind the building, kicking up the wall and leaping to the gutter. She managed to grab ahold of it and clambered up to the roof. In a rush of movement, she was on her feet and dashing up the roof, the shotgun in hand. She could feel Makino inching forward, towards the pirates. Gramma was so angry now she was about to slug the bastard, and get shot as a consequence. Time to improvise.

Ruka hopped over the ridge, planting her feet and raising the gun. Two seconds to aim, another second to pull the trigger.

The pirate who was shaking Makino's Gramma hit the ground, his skull and ear drowned in red blood. Gramma, regretfully, was not as ready for the sight of death as her fully stocked bar seemed to imply. She lurched away from the body before it hit the ground, and screamed. Of course. From her perspective, it must've looked like the guy's brains imploded or something.

Anyways, her little scream drew too much attention. Heads turned from the fire to the body like dominoes falling in rapid succession. The villagers were so spooked, they all shot to their feet, and the pirates were too distracted by the sight of one of their dead that they didn't even bother to threaten them. Everyone was surprised. Both the peace-raised villagers and the trigger-happy pirates.

"What the hell?!" One of the pirates, who was slightly bigger than the others. "What's the meaning of all this? This was supposed to be an isolated village!"

Ruka put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Gramma, the mayor, and little Makino, who was peeking her head out from behind the corner of a small house, all winced when they saw her.

Ruka held her shotgun up in the air with one hand, and scowled at the pirates.

"PIRATES OF THE EAST BLUE!" Ruka declared. "LEAVE THESE PEOPLE ALONE! THIS TERRITORY IS MINE TO PLUNDER!"

Makino's, Gramma's, and Woop Slap's mouths fell open as if they were all mentally screaming, _What do you think you're doing?!_

Ruka stared determinedly at the pirates. She could not allow these people to be seen as her allies. If there was even a chance of that rumor getting back to the World Government, everyone here could be labeled a traitor and arrested or worse.

She was gonna make these pirates think she was stealing from this place. It would put the revolutionaries in a bad light, but it was better than letting an ordinary, peaceful place like this get destroyed. She'd have to apologize to Dragon later.

"You're territory?" The bulkier pirate scoffed, before his eyes popped in surprise and greed, and he threw an arm up to point at her. "Wait a minute, I know you! You're that rogue woman whose been running around with Dragon!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Ruka saw Makino move as if to rush out to help her. Ruka jerked the gun up, planning to fire a warning shot, just to keep Makino where she was. But before she could, all the pirates had aimed their guns at her and fired in unison.

Instinctively, Ruka hardened both of her palms and all her fingers. Her haki was not quite good enough yet for her to be able to harden an entire hand or even a finger, but it worked in protecting extremities and vitals.

She dropped her gun, and it skidded down the roof. She crossed her arms in front of her and spread her fingers, managing to catch all but one of the bullets, which nicked her shoulder before flying off into oblivion.

"Her hands turned black?!" One pirate exclaimed, clutching his head in astonishment. "What the hell was that?!"

Ruka guessed they'd never seen haki before. Not surprising. She'd never heard of it until meeting Dragon, so…

Ruka ran down the roof, leaning down to fetch her gun out of the gutter before leaping down into the street. She pulled the collar of her shirt up over her nose to keep the smoke out of her lungs, whirled her gun in hand and aimed it at the pirate closest to where Makino was standing. She hit the trigger hard, like she hated it, and he screamed in horror before the bullet buried itself in his neck.

Ruka pulled her smoking gun back and whistled. These guys were amateurs, unable to even dodge bullets.

"THAT'S FAR ENOUGH!"

Ruka whirled, holding the gun close to her. Through the smoke that flooded the street like mist, and the blazing fire that illuminated everything, the bulky pirate was standing outside the crowded villagers. He'd dragged someone, a fisherman from the looks of him, to their feet and was holding a gun to his head.

The other villagers, meanwhile, had been forced back down onto their knees by a few of the remaining pirates. They each were shooting her dark looks, like she was crazy for coming out. They'd wanted her to take Makino and run away, huh?

The pirates who hadn't subdued the villagers now had their guns aimed at her. At least five of them were behind her, which was unfortunate. Concentrating her haki on her back had proven difficult. Dragon had accused of her of being too accustomed to charging ahead, so her back was an obvious weakness.

"Maybe you didn't know!" Bulky said with a sneer. "But we pirates are accustomed to shooting on site! Now why don't you stand down?"

"Yeah!" A pirate behind her taunted. "Do it and we might be willing to spare everybody here!"

"And while we're at it?" Bulky said again, looping his free arm around the hostage's neck, and pointing at Ruka. "Have you seen a little girl somewhere around here?"

Ruka kept her face blank, unreadable. How did they know Makino's age?

"We checked the village registry and apparently there's supposed to be at least one kiddo here." Bulky followed up, before pointing at Gramma. "The old hag was demanding to know what we did with her granddaughter, and there was an empty bed in her house when we raided the place. So, you seen her anywhere?"

Ruka paused, thinking things over. Makino was directly behind her, past the men who were pointing their guns at her back. She was to the left, down an alley way, hugging the wall. As usual, Ruka's haki was enabling her to feel that the girl had almost no ill intentions, not even to the pirates who threatened to slaughter her people.

But Ruka didn't want this place destroyed.

"Are you the captain here?" Ruka asked, raising her gun and aiming it at him. A few warning shots speckled the ground around her feet.

"Now I am." Bulky answered, grinding the gun barrel into the side of the hostage's head. "We ran into some marines out at sea. Our ship was destroyed and a lot of guys, including the old captain, got killed."

"Uh-huh, so you just raid the first village you come across?" Ruka questioned, finger twitching over the trigger.

"Don't act all high and mighty!" Bulky ordered, throwing an arm up to point at her. "You're no navy soldier. You don't even live in this village. You're just an outsider interfering! We don't even care about you, right now, just scram so we can get some food! We're all starving!"

Ruka chuckled at the irony.

"What's so funny?!"

"Someone else said something similar to me a while back." Ruka told him, slipping her gun back over her shoulder.

 _You are a nobody from a family of nobodies. You have no power and no place here. You have no right to interfere in the affairs of those who dictate world peace._

"It's true, this isn't my village." Ruka said with a grin. "And I'm an outsider." She held her arms out, gesturing to the bunch of pirates. "Heck you guys aren't even the navy. I used to be a pirate, too. I've been where you are, and I used to rob a bunch of folks to get what I needed. So, I'm not gonna judge you. _But_!"

A wave of chilling air burst from Ruka's body, hitting the men behind her like a sledgehammer to the face. Their eyes turned white, and they frothed at the mouth, hitting the ground like chumps.

Ruka punched her palm to her fist. "But you're still going down!"

Even if she was an outsider, and the wife of the revolutionary Dragon, she was still herself.

And she decided who her enemies were.

 **00000**

 _ **Same time, Akame Port City, West Blue**_

"You shouldn't do this, missy!" The boat loaner urged, gesturing her back onto land. "My boats are too small to cross the ocean. You should try and hitch a ride on some captain's boat."

Bonnie ran her fingers over the sail as she walked out to stern. The canoe was old fashioned, and swayed beneath her light feet, but she could trust it. She didn't know much, but she knew how to sail. Her sister and she used to go out fishing all the time.

Storm clouds, dark as pitch and sparking with lightning, had consumed the whole sky save for the horizon, which shone, bright orange and dazzling over the ocean. The waves churned testily beneath her, as if they were just itching for a chance to sink her.

"I gotta go, _Ossan_." She told him, as he stood above her at the port's edge. "Just take the money I gave you and get outta here."

She'd paid the remainder of her stay in that cruddy room, but the rest of the envelope went to the old man whose boat she'd bought without a second thought. She didn't know what he was doing here—he was too nice to be a pirate, and not greedy enough to try and haggle with 'em.

"But there's going to be a storm any second now!" He reasoned, throwing his arm back to point at the sky. "Just look at those clouds. And you don't have any supplies! Keep some of this money, it's too much for just one little boat!"

"No!" Bonnie shot him a murderous look. "I'd rather die than take anything from him! KEEP IT!"

Ossan lurched away, frightened.

Bonnie didn't want anything of Dragon's. And she didn't want to see Netty again. It would make her doubt herself. What she needed now was to keep her anger burning, let it drive her towards her goal. Before Dragon could find Netty again, Bonnie was going to kill him. Netty would never forgive her, perhaps even hate her for it. But this was for everyone's sake. But that worthless bastard didn't deserve to live.

Bonnie knelt, running her fingers over the shroud. She tugged at the thin rope, and focused her eyes on the horizon. These winds were strong. He'd set sail four days before she did, but she could catch him. And with Ada's gun, she could kill him.

Soon everything would be the way it used to be.

 **00000**

 **Okay, now for some short announcements. First, I might be changing the cover art soon. Emphasis on might. I first chose the current art because it resembled Ruka, save for the eyes. But I learned a while back that the art is actually from Hetalia of all things. Second, I'll be editing some of the previous chapters. So the authors note in between chapters 12 and 13 will soon be gone, and the prologue will be added to chapter one. If you like the current cover art, or wish me to leave the authors note be, PM me within two weeks. If enough people feel a certain way I might change my mind.**


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